Arise From the Fire
by Orli's EEPs Chica
Summary: A girl from Mordor finds herself in the company of the Gondorian army. When she meets the young captain, sparks will fly... Finally updated 3/19/08!
1. Prologue: Firechild

just a note: this takes place before the Fellowship.

Prologue- Firechild

I live in a land of fire.

A land bright orange flames, and black ash that rains down on the black earth from the peaks of the mountains high above. The ground is hard and stony, for no green plants grow here. The sky is dark- it is dark always. There is no sun, only night. From my bedroom window I can see the Dark Tower, extending up into the sky like a dark pillar against the orange smoke that comes from the mountains. Lightning flashes from the Mountain of Doom, and thunder sends tremors through the earth.

I am a child of Mordor.

It is the only home I have ever known.

My father is a servant of Sauron, the dark lord of these lands. My family are among the few humans who dwell here. We live in mountains of Morgul, in a small mountain settlement with the other humans. Both my father and my oldest brother are in the Dark Lord's service, working as spies and guards of the Black Gate. I have seen nothing of the outside world. My whole life has been spent in this land of fire. But my land of fire is also a land of anger. For long has the Dark Lord Sauron been imprisoned in his tower, unable to dominate as he once did, reduced to a mere wisp of a prescence, bound to the life force of a ring that lies somewhere in the West...

But we are not weak.

Behind the shelter of the Black Gate, Sauron's armies are regrouping. Orcs are being bred, armies of men from the south arrive every day. It is nearly time- time to wage war against the free people of Middle Earth. But that story is one that I do not know much about. What goes on in Barad-dur, I do not know, and I cannot tell what I do not know.

But this is my story.

My name is Marina. A name which means dark princess. Fitting for one who comes from the land of Mordor, but I do not know about princess. Princesses are beautiful. By my standards, I am not much to look at. Like everyone who dwells in this land, I am tall and broad- battle ready, but still pale from never being exposed to the sun. My hair is long and black- it hangs down my back in a long braid. I have never cared for vanity. It a wasted desire that can never be quelled. There is no need for it here.

There are few here who would notice beauty, besides. And I do not speak of Orcs. Though they defend us, I despise the Orcs. They are vile creatures, and they act thus, even to those loyal to Sauron. If the Great Eye did not demand they not kill us, I do believe that I would no longer live and breathe. I see the way they look at us humans when they ride through our village. It was naught but two days ago when my sister Mikita and I were cornered by a few of them. We had strayed away from the village, going farther down the mountain. Mikita is younger than I- seven years my junior, and naturally curious to explore everything. We were walking down the path when we came upon five Orcs, beating up a sixth. They saw us- or smelled us rather, their eyes were watching the one on the ground. At any rate, we were detected, and they advanced- uttering lewd curses and insults that frightened my sister and angered me to the very marrow of my bones. They backed us against the side of the mountain and struck us repeatedly, until my brother and father came and warded them off, threatening to go to the Great Eye. The Orcs left reluctantly, but the day will remain forever in my mind as one of the worst of my life.

But in my eighteen years of life, I have seen much suffering and torture, most of which is too grisly to tell. Night begins to fall on Mordor- the sky darkens even more than it is now. From my window, I can see the eerie green glow of Minas Morgul- the dead city, where the Nazgul dwell. Lightning flashes once more from above the Dark Tower.

It is this land to which I belong.

It is this land to which I swear my allegiance.

I am a child of Mordor.

good? bad? unspeakably crappy? let me know. also- I have no idea about any kind of dialects, whether elvish, dwarfish, mordor-ish (is that even right?) so for lack of knowing, i won't even try.

Disclaimer: Elves- don't own em. Dwarves- don't own em. Hobbits- don't own em. Aragorn- don't own him either. Damn! Get the picture yet? i am not tolkien, so...um... don't sue me.


	2. Dreams and Fantasy

Chapter 2- Dreams and Fantasy

My mother woke me that morning as she always does. I rolled out of my bed, and dressed quickly, wearing the same black tunic and trousers as I do nearly every day. I rebraided my hair and went into the kitchen, where my mother was standing over the fire. She handed me a piece of bread. I took it, though I despise eating it, and went outside. I took a deep breath, and hot, ash-laden air filled my lungs. Mikita came out soon after me, and we began to walk together toward Minas Morgul. The Dead City has always held a certain level of intrigue for the both of us- we once climbed to the top of the hidden stairs, but didn't dare venture any nearer.

Aside from Mikita, I have two brothers- Ereidain and Dymian. Ereidain is the eldest of the four- he is a guard of the Black Gate, to the north of where our settlement is located. He and father are not here often- they have been given a few days leave to come home and collect Dymian- for he has reached the age of sixteen, thus, he is required to report to the Black Gate and enlist in Sauron's army. That is what becomes of all men around here. They are allowed a month of every year to return home, and that is the only time that I see them. For the younger men, the month of leave is time to marry and- I suppose if you must put it in vulgar terms- mate. Understand that most marriages are arranged. I dread the next homecoming- fot I will then be suitable marrying-age. And marriage is the absolute last thing in Middle Earth I want to do. I want to see the rest of the earth first. I would run away if I could, but it is far too dangerous, what with all the Orcs that patrol the land. No- to run away is to sentence oneself to death.

My father and Ereidain and Dymian are to return to the front tomorrow. I will wish them well, and bid them leave, but my heart goes with them. My dearest desire is something I can not achieve. I long to fight, to serve this country- even if it is spurned by demonic creatures and warmongerers. It is the land of my birth. My heritage is here. My life is here. I would defend it with every fiber in my being. But I am a woman. And that is where my dream is killed and gutted faster than Orcs on a carcass. Females do NOT serve in the guard, or in the active battalions. I have told only Dymian of my dream. And, to my suprise, he did not disagree. "They could use you," he said. "You're good in a dogfight, that's for sure-" I smiled, recalling all the times he and I had gotten into little skirmishes- he being only two years my junior, he made fair competition. We would fistfight, and also fight with swords. I was fifteen when I got my first blade. It was a gift from my father- the last gift he gave me. "One day, Mari," he said. "This blade will save your life."

If only.

I sighed, and stopped walking, looking back at Mikita, who had stopped to examine some rocks. That child is the definition of the word curiosity. She is not satisfied until she sees everything, analyzes it, comments on it. Which, needless to say, makes our walk significantly longer. I looked past her, back down to where the mountain plummets down into the valley. In the distance, Mount Doom spurts fire into the air, and just behind it, the Great Eye rests in the tower of Barad-Dur. Lidless, always moving. That eye frightens me. I know that he is our leader, and that his prescence keeps the rest of Middle Earth out of here, but did the Dark Lord really have to take on such an imposing figure. The Eye is a sight that would put fear in the hearts of even the bravest soldiers. I shuddered and looked away, turning my sights instead to the green glow ahead. We were fast approaching Morgul. "Mikita!" I called to her. "Hurry!"

To my suprise, the girl actually listened, and several moments later, we had climbed the final cliff face and were looking down at the Dead City of Minas Morgul.

There is an aura around this place that is eerie and strange, but yet comforting. The air is still, stagnant- so close together you can reach out and touch it. And when you come over the last hill, the sounds that come from Mordor cease. Not a thing moves. Not a sound can be heard. It's a dark place... lifeless. Yet when you approach it, your heartbeat races. You fear for your life, though there is no visible danger. It sends a chill down my spine to look at the castle in the mountainside. Tall, and menacing- with sharp, pointed pinnacles on the ends. On the other side, I can see the stairs that lead to Cirith Ungol pass. That is one place that we dare not go. Every Mordorian knows why. An old song, passed down by the generations, warns of that:

_Beware ye that pass by the Morgul Vale_

_of the dreaded creatures harbor'd there_

_for if ye take the secret stair_

_ye shall meet the spyder in her lair_.

Peering tentatively over the boulder, Mikita asked me, "Is the Witch-King in there now?"

I nodded solemnly. "Always, Kita. He is always in his layer. He and the rest of the Nine. Together they are the Nazgul. And the Witch-king is their leader."

"I know that!" said Mikita irratibly. She hates it when I treat her life a youngling.

I looked around slowly, taking in my surroundings. A large cliff-face caught my eye, and a thought struck me.

"Kita," I said slowly, more to myself than to my sister. "If we climb those rocks... we might be able to glimpse Gondor."

Mikita gave me a strange look. "Why do you wish to look upon our enemies, sister?"

I shrugged. "To see if there really is an outside world."

"There is."

"You've never seen it."

"But Father told me about it," Mikita protested.

"Only fools believe things they haven't seen themselves," I protested. Mikita rolled her eyes. "Climb it, then," she said huffily. "I'm going back down."

"So be it," I responded, turning back to survey the rocks. They should be easy work- considering that I was not hampered by a dress. Finding my bearings, I began to climb. I went slowly, as quietly as I could. With every foot that I rose, my soul became more and more excited. I yearned to see the outside world- to see the places that I have never been, to dream of one day traveling the world...

As I tightened my fingers around a rock a few feet above me and pulled myself up, arms straining, my muscles tensing, I saw it. Extending up into the Western sky like a great white pillar.

Minas Tirith.

I was looking, for the first time, at Gondor.

The day at my altitude was strangely clear- if I squinted my eyes shut tight, I could see some of Ithilien. A cloud shifted over the City of Kings, and I saw the sun. It struck me a moment later that it was the first time I had ever seen the sun perfectly. It is always obscured by clouds in Mordor; there is only one time of day when a part of it is visible. The sky over Gondor was a clear, crystillian blue. It was, I admit, a beautiful sight. I smiled to myself, all alone in my newfound hideaway. I was glad inside that Mikita had not followed me. This would be my place- and mine only from now on.

I looked back out across the plain, watching a flock of birds fly across my field of view. I watched them until they disappeared off to the south. Then I turned my eyes back to the fortress infront of me. Everything seemed so still and peaceful. For once in life.

Mari- nickname for Marina

* * *

so: what do you think? i promise this is going to get interesting soon; i'm trying to establish my characters, and all that good stuff.

i would love some feedback on this story- i thought it would be cool to make up a human character from mordor. so tell me what you think! PLEASE!!!!


	3. Father and Sons

Chapter 2- Father and Sons

In Gondor

"Captain Boromir! Word from Osgiliath!"

A tall, dark-haired soldier turned to face the messanger who was bounding towards him. The younger soldier, looking as though he had run several hundred leagues, fell to his knees at the captain's feet.

Picking him up, Boromir looked at the boy steadily. "What is the word, lad?" he asked.

"Orcs. They have attacked the Eastern shore. Our garrison calls for aide!"

Boromir nodded. He summoned one of his attendants over, and said, "See to it that this lad is allowed to recover. Take him to a Healer if need be. He has served his lord well."

The servant bowed, and the boy was lead away.

Boromir turned to one of his subordinates, standing at his captain's side, waiting for command.

"Gather the men," he said quietly. "We make for Osgiliath."  
He turned and mounted his horse, and spurned the mare to a gallop. Weaving in and out of people, he made his way up the levels of the city, before reaching the top level, where his father waited for him. Boromir hurried up the white marble steps, into the throne room. Denethor sat on his chair at the front of the room, staring into space.

The son knelt before the father respectfully. "Lord Denethor," he said, bowing his head.

"Rise, my son," said Denethor.

Boromir did so.

"What is it?" the Steward asked.

"My lord, the garrison at Osgiliath has summoned aide."

"Tell me of your plans, Captain," said Denethor.

"We will send one hundred of our men there to secure the city. The orcs will not stand a chance," Boromir added with an air of arrogance.

Denethor nodded. To a younger man standing near him, he said, "You see, Faramir? Your brother is willing to take risks in times of war." Denethor eyed the younger lad with a cold look. Faramir looked down, but then raised his head a moment later and said, "Perhaps that is why we have never known a time of peace," he said. "If battle is all that we pursue, it is all we shall recieve."

"You greatly disappoint me, Faramir. Leave us."

"If it pleases you, my lord," said Faramir cooly, though as he bowed and left, Boromir saw his brother's eyes wet with anguished tears that he would never allow to fall. Faramir tried so hard, thought his brother, to please their father; but no matter what he did, it never seemed to be enough.

"Was it necessary to dismiss him, father?" Boromir asked.

"What would you have had me do, Boromir?" Denethor asked heatedly.

"I would take the time to listen to him now and then, Father," said Boromir exasperatedly. "He tries so hard to make you happy, to do as you command, to serve you and our country honorably. And you push him away."

"I have no need of you telling me what to do about my own son," said Denethor angrily. Boromir sighed. The Steward had been the epitomy of anger and spite ever since his mother had died, though she had been dead for many years now.

The young captain of Gondor stood straight and tall, and said, in a level tone, "With your permission, Lord, I shall leave now."  
His father nodded. "Go well, then, my son. Send me word of your victory as soon as you have obtained it."

Boromir bowed, knowing what his father expected of him. There would be no return except in glory- defeat would be better met with death.

A short time later, the city gates were opened, and the soldiers of Gondor rode out proudly, sitting tall on their horses.

From the tallest tower atop Minas Tirith, Faramir watched the parade of horses sullenly. There was his brother- a firm commander, a brave leader, a valiant warrior. And then there was him- cowering in the tower, surrounded by books. His father had no need of a scholar, he thought, picking up one of the leather volumes lovingly. He wanted strapping soldiers, men who would not stop the charge until victory was had. Soldiers who would win, or forfeit their lives trying.

Everything that Boromir was- and everything that he could never be.


	4. A Clever Disguise

Chapter 4- A Clever Disguise

(a/n: from here on out, the story is told from a 3rd person POV. just to let you know. Enjoy, and as always....review. p.s: sorry for the short chapters. It'll get better, i promise.)

Marina stayed atop her rock for a long while. She loved the quiet stillness of the world from that particular vantage point- it cleared her mind, helped her think. She turned her eyes back at Minas Tirith, and saw movement by the base. She watched as tiny horses emerged, and began to canter across the plain, closer to where she was. She realized that they were headed for Osgiliath, which she could see more clearly defined than the White City itself. She looked to the front of the rider, watched as their leader signaled something to his men. Marina wondered who among the company would live through whatever battle they rode towards. She would have been content to remain there all day, had it not been for Mikita- whose voice she heard, calling her from the bottom of the ridge.

Sighing at a peaceful moment gone, Marina crawled over to the side of her rock and looked down to where her sister stood. She was about to scold the girl for disturbing her, but the look on her sister's face stopped her. Mikita looked distressed.

"What is it?" Marina called down tentatively- though keeping her voice as quiet as possible."

"Its Dymian!" said Mikita. "He's had an accident!"  
That was all Marina needed to hear. She scrambled down off the rock and began to run toward the village, her little sister at her heels. As she sprinted toward the family's house, her heart was racing. What had happened? Was Dymian hurt? And how badly? It must have been bad, or Mikita would bot have come running for her.

She flung open the door and rushed into the small room that the boys shared. It was Dymian's room now, since Ereidain had moved out. Her younger brother was lying on his sleeping pallet, pale and bleeding from his leg.

"What happened?" Marina asked, eyes wide.

"He fell," said Ereidain. "We were climbing the mountain gathering firestones. He lost his footing..."

"I think his leg is broken," said Nevania, his mother. "It will take long to mend."

Marina looked down at the bloody mess that was Dymian's leg. Strips of bloody cloth had been wrapped around it, but it was still bleeding freely.

At the sound of his mother's words, Dymian stirred and protested. "No- we have to report to the Black Gate the day after tomorrow. I have to go."  
"Nonesense," said Nevania firmly. "If you go, you will kill yourself. Wounds like this become too easily infected."

"We will be killed if he doesn't report," said Ereidain darkly. "You know the law."

Nevania shook her head. "We will discuss this later. Right now, you two must help me tend to your brother..."

Later that day, after Dymian's wounds had been cleaned and dressed, Ereidain stood outside the house, in a state of thought. He heard a movement behind him, and, turning, saw Marina standing there. His sister came over and stood beside him.

"How is he?" Ereidain asked quietly.

"He will be fine," Marina responded passively, as she always did. "But it will be long before he can walk again."

Ereidain let out a long breath, and stared off onto the horizon, down toward the plains of Mordor.

"What are we going to do, Mari?" he asked her softly, looking back at his sister. "Dymian has to be there in two days," he went on. "If he is not- they will come after our family. They will send the Orcs upon us. I don't want that to happen."

"Then is it not obvious what we must do?" said Marina, still speaking with a passive air.

"What are you saying?"

"Let me go in Dymian's stead. We are like enough in appearence- and I fight just as well as a man..."

Ereidain sighed. "Mari," he said, tugging on her braid in a brotherly way. "You and I both know that will never work. They would discover you, sister. And then the consequences would be too great to bear."

"But Ereidain, there is no other way," Mari protested. "Three of our family must be at the black gate in two days. We have no choice."

"Father will not approve."

"He will. If it will save our family, he will approve. He may not like it, but he will allow it. He condemns us to death if he does otherwise."

"But still, Mari..." said Ereidain, searching for the right words. He loved his sister very much. Marina was his closest friend- the one person who he had always confided in, and she had done the same. He didn't want her getting hurt, but it would be even worse if she were to be discovered. "Marina," he continued, a tone of seriousness in his voice. "I know that you think this will help... but the bottom line of this is that... well... you're a...er-a woman."

He eyed her meaningfully. She merely shrugged.

"Marina!" he said, more firmly, more desperately. "Don't you understand? If you're discovered.... there will be thousands of lonely men who will want to..." he couldn't say it. He didn't want to picture it, either.

Marina looked down at the blackened earth. "Let us pray that that does not happen," was all she said.

Ereidain was silent for a few moments. He picked up a small piece of rock and threw it at the horizon in frustration.

"If you truly want to come with us..." he began.

"I do," said Marina, perhaps a little too eagerly.

Reluctantly, her brother nodded. "All right then. But you'll have to cut your hair."

She agreed, and turned to leave. "I'm going to go talk to mother," she said quietly. "And Ereidain," she said quietly, turning back to look at him. "Please don't worry about me."

He nodded, and she went inside. He stared back off onto the orange horizon, not believing what he'd just agreed to let her do.

Marina and Nevania sat on the floor of the girl's room, a short time later. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mari?" asked her mother hesitantly.

Marina nodded. "It will save us. Just do it."

With a heavy heart, Nevania picked up Marina's sword out of its scabbard, and took her daughter's long braid in her hand. With one swift stroke, Marina's long, thick black hair was shanked off, falling to the floor with a defeated sound. When she looked back at her mother, Marina saw tears in her eyes. Feeling her own sense of regret, she slowly ran her hands through her now-short hair. It felt different- lighter and more manageable. She forced a smile onto her face. "There," she said. "It isn't that bad, is it?"

Her mother shook her head, but still looked pained. She held her daughter's braid in her two hands, remembering all the years she had brushed it and braided it for her, and now it was gone.

"Come on, mother," said Marina gently. "We still have work to do." Nevania nodded, and they continued.

After an hour's labor, Marina looked like a strapping young soldier, wearing a snug undershirt underneath her layers of clothing to hide her figure. Her black hair cut off just below her ears, and she had smudged her face to appear less clean-shaven.

"Gods, Mari," said Dymian when he saw his sister. "You really do look like a lad."

Even Ereidain, though he looked concerned, admitted that the disguise was authentic. That evening, when Durmhuil, their father returned from his journey to a nearby village and saw Maurins, he was shocked. He was also not happy.

"You mean to send my daughter to the front lines, in the guise of a man?" he asked, voice louder than usual. He was speaking to his wife. Nevania looked frightened. "N-not if you do not will it, Durmhuil." she responded fragilly.

"I do not will it," he said firmly.

"But father!" said Ereidain suddenly, advancing. Marina did a double take at her brother. He was not a coward, but he had never dared to stand up to their father before. "If you don't let her go, you sentence our family to death. You know the laws of the land. They expect three men from our family at the gate. Marina must go. It is not a question anymore, father."

Durmhil looked menacing. "You dare stand up to me, Ereidain?" he tested his oldest son.

"I stand up for my family, father. I will not do nothing about this. Marina is coming with us."

"And what do you think will happen if she is discovered?" Durmhuil protested. "We will be no better off if that should happen!"

"I understand that," said Marina suddenly from where she stood. "I know the risks, father. I am willing to take them."

Durmhuil stared at his daughter. She looked strong and determined, ready to do what duty demanded of her. He looked at his wife and his youngest daughter. Mikita looked frightened- he knew all this talk of death made her scared. And he looked at his two sons. He was proud of his boys. He wanted both of them to fight by his side, not Marina. He loved her, but there was no place for a woman on the battlefield. But there was no other way.

He sighed, and then locked eyes with Marina. "You are sure about this, daughter?" he asked.

She nodded steadily. "I am ready, father."

"Very well, then. We leave tomorrow morning."

Durmhuil retreated to his room. Ereidain sighed and walked outside, Marina on his heels.

"Why do you follow me?" he asked when they were outside once more.

"I wanted to thank you. For standing up to father."  
"I had to," he said simply.

"Father hates me," said Marina. "I see it in his eyes when he speaks to me. He wishes that I were also a son."

"He loves you, Mari," Ereidain said.

Marina shook her head. "He doesn't."

They were silent for a few moments. Ereidain didn't wish to discuss the matter any further. In his heart, he knew that his sister was right. Durmhuil didn't love his daughters as he loved his sons. He barely spoke to them when he was home.

Searching for another topic to talk about, he asked, "So you are going as Dymian, then? Using his name?"

She nodded.

"This really worries me, Mari," he said. "I will worry about you every day."

"It will only be for a year, Ereidain. When we return next time, Dymian will be healed, and he can take my place."

"But its a whole year," her brother pressed on. "What if you're killed? Or captured?"

"I try not to think about it," said Marina. "But if I am meant to die doing this, then I shall meet my end when the time is right."

Her talking frightened him.

Feeling that the conversation had gone as far as it needed to, Marina turned and went back into the house. As she crawled into bed, she remembered that this would be her last night there, in the home she had called her own for eighteen years.

The three of them left the next day, heading for Mordor. It was a two day journey to the Black Gate, and from the very beginning, it was shaping up to be a most unpleasant one. Durmhuil said nothing to his daughter as he strapped his bag to his back. They set out down the steeply sloping mountainside, accompanied by a few other soldiers who were also returning to the Gate. It was during their travel that Marina's disguise was first put to the test. She was introduced as Dymian, and the other men seemed to accept this; when she spoke, she made sure to deepen her voice even more than usual, since her voice was low and husky to begin with. Their company reached the plains of Gorgoth by midday, turning north toward the land of Morannon, the site of the human military camp. At nightfall they rested, speaking little and taking turns keeping watch for any wayward Orcs that may be searching for a meal. Their journey continued through the next two days, until, finally, the soldiers arrived at the Gate at last.

They reported to the commander of the army, who issued Marina her gear, weapons, and sent her to be branded. All soldiers of Mordor had the mark of Sauron imprinted on their forearm, symbolizing that they would be ever faithful to him and to their land. As she waited behind a long line of new recruits, Marina was shaking under her baggy clothes. The man infront of her, who looked to be about her age, muttered "Branding us like bloody animals, they are."

Marina nodded.

"Where do you come from?" he asked her.

"A village in the Shadow Mountains, near Minas Morgul."

He nodded. "My home was in the East- in Ered Lithui. Of course, it isn't likely that I'll see it again," he said.

"You may," said Marina.

He shrugged, then said, "I'm Razkan."

"Dymian," said Marina, without missing a beat.

They talked for a few more moments, until they came to the front of the line.

"Well," said Razkan, grimacing. "Guess I'm up."

He strode over to where two Orcs were waiting to brand him. He sat down on a wooden stool, holding out his arm. One of the Orcs rolled up his sleeve and held his arm still while the other took out a long iron pole from a piping hot fire. Marina looked away as the metal rod was pressed against Razkan's skin. It was over in a moment, and he stood up, rather shakily, and walked slowly away.

Then it was Marina's turn.

She had never been more afraid in her life, walking toward the Orcs trembling in fear. She sat down, and the Orc took her arm in his steely grip, tearing off her sleeve to the elbow. He felt her quivering, and sneered. "Afraid, boy?" he spat maliciously. "Maybe some pain will do you good. Are you going to scream?" he asked, his red eyes looking into Marina's with hatred and spite. She tried to look away, but the Orc grabbed her chin and jerked her head down to look at her arm. The other Orc brought the metal rod closer to her. Unable to look away because of the Orc's iron grip on her, Marina bit her lip until it bled. The brand pressed against her skin, burning the mark into her flesh forever.

It was pain such as Marina had never experienced before. Tears of pain formed at the corners of her eyes- she tasted the blood in her mouth from where she had been biting down; she fought every urge inside of her to scream.

The rod was removed from her skin. When she looked down, she almost vomited. The skin around the burn was red and blistering. The burn itself had turned a sickening brown color. The Orc that had held her down shoved her away- hard. She landed facedown on the black ashen ground. Mind numb with pain, she stood up again and began to walk aimlessly.

"Dymian!" someone called her. To her relief, she saw Ereidain coming toward her. "Come with me," he said.

Obediently, she followed her brother. He lead her to one of the tents. "This is where you sleep. Will you be all right sharing it with," he lowered his voice, "with some of the men?"

She nodded. "Very well," said Ereidain, though he still looked worried for her. Marina stepped inside the tent, and saw that one of the men she would be bunking with was the young man she had been speaking with in the line.

Razkan smiled weakly at her. "How's the arm?" he asked.

"Hurts."

He nodded. "We should get some rest," he said. Night was drawing nearer.

"Sounds like a good idea," said Marina, weary with pain and exhaustion.

Curled up under a thin blanket, she tried to sleep, but found it difficult. Her arm still throbbed with pain- a sharp stabbing pulse that wouldn't die down. Vaguely, she thought that this was the worst idea she had ever had. How would she ever survive this, she thought bleakly.

As time passed, however slowly, Marina became used to life at the Black Gate. Her unit went out on patrol every day, training themselves at combat and tracking. At the end of another training day, Marina and Razkan took off their gear like normal and went to sleep, unaware that the next day would change everything...


	5. A Turn of the Tide

Chapter 5- A Turn of the Tide

lordoftheringsfanfictionreader- thanks! i'm glad you like it so far. your reviews make me a happy person! keep reading :)

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okay.... onward with the story!

* * *

Marina woke early the next morning. The other men were still sound asleep as she put her armor on, pulling the metal plates over her arms, legs, and chest. Lastly, she pulled on her helmet and veil, which covered her face, exposing only her eyes. She attached her sword in its scabbard to her back, put a dagger in her metal-toed boot, and picked up her axe- the weapon used by the guards. Opening the flap of her tent, she stepped outside into the ashen Mordor morning. She heard some of the men stirring, and a moment later, Razkan came out. "Up early this morning, eh Dymian?" he asked. 

Marina shrugged.

"Word has it we're passing near Ithilien today," Razkan said.

At this, Marina listened more intently. "Ithilien?" she asked.

Razkan nodded. "They're sending us out on a scouting mission. That's all I heard though. Rest is top secret."

"Good," said Marina. "Maybe we'll get to show up some fat Gondorian soldiers."

Razkan laughed. "Maybe. That'd make my day."

With one last laugh, he left, heading back into the tent.

"Dymian!" someone hissed at her. Marina recognized the voice immediately. Sure enough, when she turned, she saw Ereidain calling her from behind a tall rock. She hurried over to him.

"What is it?' she asked.

"Our units are going on patrol today," said Ereidain. He was one of the commanding officers of Marina's battalion, much to his relief, and had been able to keep an eye out for his little sister.

"So its true then," she said. "Raz said we'd be going, but I didn't know whether to believe him or not."

"Yes- its true," her brother said darkly. "We're passing through a very dangerous terrain. I'm almost certain we'll meet with opposition."

"Great," said Marina. "I'm dying for some action."

Ereidain eyed her apprehensively. "Promise me that you won't go looking for danger Marina," he said, dropping his voice when he said her name.

"I don't go looking for danger, brother," she said.

"Still," said Ereidain. "You're more war-hungry than many of the men here."

Marina smiled, though her brother could not see it because of the veil. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't be coy with your commanding officer, Dymian."

She rolled her eyes at him and strode off.

Their company set out a short time later. The horns sounded through the camp, and the Black Gate was opened slowly by the massive trolls.

Marching in two straight lines, the guards marched out of Mordor. They turned south and began to make their way toward Ithilien. No one was sure the reason of the scouting mission; they followed their leaders blindly. They were passing into the realm of Gondor when the attack came. Arrows flew seemingly out of nowhere, and the Mordorian guards found themselves under siege. Marina panicked as she saw several men fall infront of her. And then she saw them.

Gondorians.

Charging out of the forest, some on horseback, some on foot. She braced herself, axe ready to strike. The battle began. Marina's unit formed up, fiercely attacking the other army. Marina slashed out with her axe- swinging it with a force suprising for someone her size and stature. She brought down three soldiers, then whirled around to fend off an attempted backstabbing. She killed her assailant, and then saw something that made her heart stop. Ereidain, who was fighting off two soldiers and winning, was suddenly struck in the back with an arrow. He fell back, but not before finishing off the fight he was involved in. The two Gondorians fell at his feet, before he too stumbled and fell.

"Ereidain!" she yelled, running as fast as she could over to where her brother lay. She saw one of the soldiers approaching her brother's body, sword raised. She lunged forward and met his blade, putting space between the soldier and her fallen brother. Marina looked at her attacker with an icy stare. The duel began- a furious twirling of axe and sword.

Marina dodged the blade once, but then the man she was fighting kicked her axe out of her hands, leaving her weaponless. She reached for her sword, but was not quick enough. She felt the man's blade go in through the weak part of her armour- in her side. She doubled over with pain, putting her hand to her side. She felt warm liquid covering it, and with a retch, saw that it was her own blood. Still, she found the strength to take out her sword and stand up shakily, though she bent over grotesquely. She tried to lunge out, but fell.

She looked up and met the soldier's eyes. His were brown and deep- was there a trace of compassion in them? No, she thought. No compassion can come from this man, she thought. He was the enemy. He was evil.

And then he was gone. Left Marina for dead.

Slowly, she crawled over to where her brother was lying. "Ereidain," she croaked, her throat dry.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Mari."

He saw the wound in her side. "You're hurt," he said, looking worried.

She shook her head. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Can you walk?"

He nodded. "I think so."

Marina looked around. The battle had moved farther away from them. "Get out of here," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Go- now. Get up and run. Get as far away as you can."

Ereidain looked at her as if she were insane. "What about you?"

"I can't move. But you can."

"I am not going to leave you here, Mari."

"Yes you are. Hurry- they'll come back when the battle is done. Just get out."

He shook his head. "I'm not going without you."

"Ereidain, please," she said. "There's no point to both of us dying."

Her words made him pale.

"Please go, brother," she said.

"I will never be able to forgive myself if I leave you here."

"Consider it my last request," she said sardonically. More softly, she pleaded, "I am begging you. Please go."

He stood up shakily, and she smiled. "Thank you." she said. "Now go." Taking one last look at her, he left, praying that her spirit would find peace and that he was doing the right thing by leaving her.

The world began to darken around her. She heard voices, men speaking with an accent different than that of her people. The battle was over, and it was apparent who had won. Marina prayed that Ereidain had gotten away. She heard the soldiers coming nearer. She curled herself up in the fetal position, ready to give up.

* * *

One of the Gondorians saw a man lying on the ground. He was still breathing. The soldier raised his sword above the Mordor guard's head, ready to change that. In her clouded state of mind, Marina realized what was happening. _Go on_, she thought to the soldier. _Do it. Go on and end it. Just end it all. End the pain._

"Stop!" A man's deep voice rang out across the quiet air. She heard footsteps approaching her.

Brown eyes looked back at hers...

"Sir?" the soldier asked Boromir. He had been about to strike down a Mordorian, but his commander had stopped him.

"Lower your weapon," Boromir said firmly.

"Why should we not kill him, captain?"

Boromir looked from the fallen soldier to the man standing before him. "Because he is a woman."

* * *

Cold water was splashed over Marina's face, jerking her out of her unconsciousness. She gagged and spat out water, then clutched her side, for coughing hurt her greatly. There were four men standing over her; three stood and one knelt over her, unfastening her helmet. He sat back as she expelled the water, then looked back down at her. She was still lying on the ground where she had fallen.

Gently, the man on the ground lifted her helmet off of her head, letting her now shoulder-length hair fall down around her. He slipped something soft behind her head, propping her up.

She looked up at him with eyes of fear.

"Who are you and why are you dressed as a Mordor guard?" the man asked.

She didn't respond to the question. Instead she asked him bitterly, "Why did you not let me die?"

He met her eyes with a familiar look of sadness... and she remembered. He was the soldier who had wounded her. And now he was... helping her?

He did not answer. Instinctively, her hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, enclosing it in a talon-like grip. "Why?" she asked.

"You would have chosen death?" he asked her.

"Yes."

"A foolish choice."

"I would rather die in battle than deteriorate at the hand of a Gondorian." Marina said defiantly.

The soldier did not reply to this; instead, he examined the wound in her side- the wound which he had inflicted.

"I'll need to look at that," he said quietly.

"Leave it," Marina said venemously. "Just leave me here."

He shook his head. "No. You are our captive. You will ride with us to Minas Tirith. Your fate will be decided there. Now about this wound..." He returned his gaze to the bloodstained spot beneath her armor.

"Captain Boromir!" Marina heard someone yell. "Are we to move out?"

"No!" Boromir shouted back. "We shall make camp here for the night."

Captain? thought Marina. This man was a captain of Gondor?

She looked back at him.

She noticed that the other men that had been around her had left, and that it was just she and him. The others were setting up camp several feet away, well out of earshot.

"Captain, are you?" she asked sarcastically.

He nodded, and began to unfasten the chestplate she wore over her tunic. She knocked his hand away. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"You need to let me look at this," he insisted. "If you don't. you'll die a slow, painful death after it becomes infected," he added cynically.

Reluctantly, she nodded, and he continued, setting the heavy piece of metal aside.

With a jolt of horror, Marina realized where she had been wounded. He would not be able to clean it without lifting up her shirt.

Which she would absolutely not let him do.

He must have shared her same thought, because he stopped and looked at her. Her eyes leveled his with a venemous stare that clearly said don't you dare.

"I have to clean this..." he said, almost apologetically.

She didn't know why, but she nodded. Then, she sent an inadvertant look at the rest of the soldiers standing nearby. He realized what she was worried about.

"I'll be right back," he said. She didn't know what he said to them, but they moved off a few more feet, their backs to where Marina lie.

"There," he said, returning with a small bag. "I promise, I'll be as quick as possible."

"If you do anything..." she said in a meaningful voice, "I swear to the gods you'll pay."

He held up his hands. "I mean you no harm, woman," he said.

Slowly, experimentally, he pulled her thin black shift up a few inches- exposing only a little of her stomach. When she didn't make any threatening moves, he pulled it up a little further, just enough to expose the wound. Her skin was pure white, having never been exposed to the sun. She was very thin- he could see the bottom of her ribcage, clearly defined.

The wound was deep.

And bleeding badly besides.

Reaching into the bag beside him, he took out a small jar of something. He cleaned the wound, holding a piece of cloth over it to slow the bleeding. When the bloodflow was controlled, he dabbed a cloth with some kind of ointment.

"This is going to hurt," he warned her. "But I promise- it will help the pain."

She felt a sharp sting in her side- more agonizing than the damage caused by the sword. She gasped in pain, but clenched her teeth- not wanting to see her weakness.

Boromir's eyes met hers, but only for an instant. He took out a thin piece of thread from the pack and a small needle, preparing to stitch her up. Before beginning, he dabbed more of the liquid on the wound. This time, she couldn't control her reaction. Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist again and squeezing it hard, in terrible pain. She closed her eyes tightly- until tears came. He didn't release her hold on him- though she was nearly cutting off his circulation. Then, as soon as it had started, the pain subsided. She felt it slowly leaving her, and lessened her grip on his arm, breathing hard from fatigue. Tiny beads of sweat were forming on her forehead, and she shivered involuntarily.

He placed a cool hand on her forehead, and felt that she was burning up. He finished stitching it up, and quickly, set about wrapping the wound. Reaching under her, he placed a hand on her back and propped her up, leaning her against his chest. Then, he took a length of cloth to use for a bandage, and began to wrap it.

Marina felt herself grow lightheaded from the fever. She felt herself being propped up- and it took a moment before she realized the position she was in. However, she was too weak to protest, and in her semi-conscous state found his shoulder to be rather comfortable. Moments later, she felt herself being lifted up and carried off somewhere. She was put onto a soft surface and covered with a blanket. Her last thoughts before sleep claimed her were of her brother.

She was still asleep hours later, curled up on a sleeping pad, covered by a wool blanket.

* * *

Around midmorning the next day, Boromir entered her tent and stood over her. He had so many questions about her- why was she fighting for Mordor? What was her name? were only a few of them. She stirred slightly when he entered, and opened her eyes a few moments later. Seeing him, she scowled defensively and shrank away from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, more roughly than he had intended to.

"You did yesterday," she said.

"I helped you yesterday." He said cooly.

"Yes- help that I would not have needed had you not stabbed me!" she said angrily.

And then it struck him. She had been the soldier he had struck. The one who had tried to keep fighting him.

"I'm sorry." He said, realizing how stupid the words sounded.

She laughed darkly. "I'm so convinced of that," she responded, voice loaded with sarcasm.

"You should be," he snapped.

She rolled her eyes and exhaled muttering curses in the Black language of her country.

"I need to know if you will be able to travel today," he said. "We must return to Minas Tirith as soon as possible."  
"How far is it from here?" she asked.

"We have many wounded," he said. "It will be a three day ride. Perhaps longer."

"I can ride."

"Very well, then. You'll ride with me."

She stared at him, eyes wide. "I am perfectly capable of riding alone."

"You may be capable," he said. "But do you really think I'd be stupid enough to give you your own horse? Do not forget, lady- you are a prisoner."

She scowled again. Before she could protest, he had strode out of the tent.

She loathed him.

Outside, Boromir was feeling the same way about their new hostage. Maybe he should have left her to die. She was irking him already, and they would still have to ride together. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Then he straightened up. He was the Captain of Gondor.

He could deal with this maturely, even if she couldn't.

After all, he had dealt with far more dangerous foes in his life.

How bad could one woman be?


	6. Verbal Sparring

Chapter 6- Verbal Sparring

Nearly an hour later, Marina was ready to leave. She had dressed in a spare shirt she had found in the tent, and her own pants. She realized, with satisfaction, that she still had the dagger hidden in her boot. It would come in handy later, she thought. Her sword, however, was nowhere to be found. She made her way over to where Boromir was saddling his chestnut mare.

"Where are my weapons?" she demanded.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I have them," he said.

"When will I get them back?" she asked edgedly.

"You won't." he said simply.

"But they're mine!" she protested.

"You've never been held captive before, have you?" he asked sarcastically.

"For your information, I haven't."

"Then let me explain something to you," said Boromir, now thoroughly annoyed. "You are a prisoner. You do not get weapons. You do not get your own horse. And if you continue to plauge me with millions of questions, you will be bound and gagged."

"Is that a threat?"

"I suppose it is."

It took every ounce of will that Marina posessed not to take out her dagger that moment and slit his throat. But she stopped herself. If she were to do something stupid like that, she would be up against half the Gondorian army. She had to wait until the right moment, then make her escape.

Sweelty, she smiled at him, though she was clearly fuming. "Fine then," she said. "I won't forget it."

"Nor will I," he muttered under his breath.

And then, without warning, she mounted his horse.

"Coming, Captain?" she taunted. "Or should I go on ahead of you?" An evil grin spread across her face.

Boromir jumped on right as she spurned the beast in the side. His horse went cantering down the field.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, woman?!" he yelled.

"Well I was trying to get rid of you, but it looks like I have failed!" she hollered back. The horse jumped over a log, and Boromir had to grab her around the waist to avoid falling off.

"Get your hands off me!" she spat.

"Give me the reins, then!"

"No!"

Fine, he thought, two could play this game.

He tightened his grip on her.

"WHAT-ARE-YOU-DOING!?! Get-off me!"

She jerked the reins tightly, and the horse turned sharply, tossing both of them off and into a shallow pool of water. Boromir stood up, soaking wet and very angry. The water came up to his knees.

Marina was still sitting, clutching at her side, which was now hurting her terribly again.

Boromir advanced on her. "Do you realize you could have gotten us killed?" he asked heatedly.

"No," she said cooly, though he could see that she was masking agony.

A sudden burst of anger overtook him, and he seized her by the wrist and pulled her up. She let out a small yelp of pain as she was jerked upward, and found herself standing at an uncomfortably close proximity to the captain.

"You mean to drive me to the breaking point? Is that it?" he asked her, locking eyes with her.

She looked away. "If you had let me die, we wouldn't have this problem," she said stubbornly.

"If I had let you die? By gods, I SHOULD HAVE!" he yelled.

"But you didn't!" she shouted back.

"You're right! And now I'm stuck in the woods with a death-obsessed woman whose name I don't even know!"

"I am not death obsessed, you hairless Orc!" Mari yelled furiously.

"Hairless Orc, am I?"

"Yes! You are! And a conceited, selfish, and spoiled one at that!"

"I'm spoiled? What about you? You are a prisoner for gods' sake, and you come around making all sorts of demands and stealing MY HORSE!"

"I didn't steal your precious horse, captain," she retorted, wriggling out of his grip on her.

"Well what do you call it then?"

She didn't answer, because she was suddenly overcome by an intense wave of pain. It hit her like a thousand little daggers, and she doubled over, losing her balance. Boromir caught her.

"Easy," he said.

"Get- off!" she said.

"Fine!" He let go, and she fell backwards, back into the water.

Then he realized how badly she'd been hurt from what he'd done. She had lost her sarcastic grin; her face was now contorted with pain.

"Go... away," she gasped, still clutching her side.

"Let me help you," he said.

"You just did... a second ago... when you pushed me... into the water!" she choked out harshly.

Against her protests, he scooped her up and set her on the horse, before mounting behind her, this time holding the reins.

He kicked the horse gently, and it began to gallop back through the trees to where his men were breaking camp.

He lifted Marina off the horse, and angrily bound her hands, to prevent such an incident from happening again. When they were ready to move out, he set her on the horse again, and they rode off. As they cantered along slowly, she sat up straight, careful not to touch him. She was tense, and the horse could sense it.

"Would you relax?" he implored the woman infront of him. "You're rigid. Its making this whole thing akward."

She laughed coldly. "Think about this, Captain. You stab me, deny me a quick death by prolonging my existance, you toss me into a swamp, bind my hands, threaten my life, and then you tell me to relax?"

_I can add to that list of greivances and throw you off this horse_, he thought to himself. He thought better of saying it out loud.

* * *

Their ride continued; Marina tried to keep space between the two, but as the day wore on, she felt herself tiring, and leaning against him. When they stopped for the night, Boromir noticed Marina sitting by herself, sullenly hunched up against a tree, hands still bound. He hesitated before walking over to her. Looking more closely at her, he could have sworn he saw a tear stream down her face, but decided not to comment on it. He knelt down beside her and took out a small dagger. She flinched.

"If I undo your bonds, will you promise not to run?" he asked.

Feeling weak and tired, she nodded. He lifted the dagger to the thick rope and cut it, releasing her hands. As the rope fell away, he saw that it had cut into her wrists, leaving red, raw blisters; a few of which were bleeding.

"Now," he said, looking into her face. "Would you mind telling me your name for starters?"

She considered lying, but then thought, what was the point? So she responded hoarsley, "Marina. Mari for short."

"And why were you dressed like a Mordor soldier?"

"Because I am Mordor soldier," she responded.

"They allowed a woman to serve?"

"I was disguised. I had to serve for my brother. They would have killed us otherwise."

"'Us'?"

"My family."

"Where does your family live?"

"In Mordor."

"There are humans in Mordor?" Boromir asked.

Marina nodded. "We live in villages."

She looked away, into a bonfire that the men had made in the clearing. Seeing the red-orange glow brought back memories of her homeland. She sighed, missing her family.

"You live there your whole life?" he asked.

"I have never known another home," she responded.

She didn't feel like talking to him anymore. She reminded herself that he was still the enemy. She mustn't tell him too much.

"Are you loyal to Sauron?" he asked.

She nodded.

His tone turned serious. "You are loyal to a...a thing that murders its people and seeks to dominate the earth?"

"There can be no victory- only alliance. The other lands of Middle Earth fail to see that."

"You mean to take the cowardly path," said Boromir.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I mean doing what it necessary to survive. If that means allying myself with those I would rather avoid, then so be it."

"You know nothing of alleigance," said Boromir. "Look around. These men are faithful to their counrty, and to me, their captain. They fight because they believe in the cause, not to save their lives."

She shook her head. "You have never lived in fear, have you? You have never lived life with that kind of evil at your doorstep. You have never lived in a land where your life could end at any moment. You've never lived with an eye constantly watching you..."

"If you think it is evil, then why fight for it?" he asked her exasperatedly.

"Because I had no choice!" she said loudly. Lowering her voice, she said, "And now... its become the only thing I know. I would not swear alleigance to any other land."

She folded her arms stubbornly across her chest.

Boromir sighed, and strode away.

* * *

Later that night, after most of the men had gone to bed, he sat alone, smoking his pipe and staring into the fire absent-mindedly. The heavy pipe smoke must have been clouding his brain, because he found himself thinking about the woman he had "rescued". She had said her name was Marina. As he sat there, he heard the whistling of the wind through the trees... they seemed to be whispering her name- _Marina.... Marina.... Marina...._

He shook himself. How, he wondered, could someone so utterly irritating have such a soothing name? He rested his chin on his hand. She was the most annoying soul he had ever come by in Middle Earth- but for some reason, he found that he didn't mind.

What do you mean 'you don't mind'? he thought suddenly, jerking himself out of the stupor he had once again fallen into. For crying out loud, the woman had almost gotten him killed... or at least severely injured. Of course he minded.

Didn't he?

Boromir shook his head, and thought that he probably shouldn't smoke so much in the future. He had absolutely no control over the things that went on in the depths of his brain. With a sigh, he set the pipe aside, and stared back into the fire. And yet again, he found himself thinking about Marina. She confounded him, that was for sure. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't figure her out. Did she really hold her alleigance with Mordor true?

Or did she think it evil?

He began to think that he would probably never get a straight answer from her. His thoughts drifted to what would happen in a few days, when they reached Minas Tirith. She'd be imprisoned, for sure- possibly even put to death. He'd never have to see her again.

The thought didn't bring him as much comfort as he had hoped.

* * *

It was nearing midnight when he was shaken out of his thoughts yet again, this time by a noise coming from his tent. He stood up swiftly, sword in hand, and walked soundlessly to the front of the canvas structure. Someone was moving around inside. He waited until he heard whoever it move to the front. Then, he launched himself into the tent, wrestling the intruder to the ground, pinning down it.... him... her?

"Dammit- get OFF!" yelled a familiar voice.

He swore loudly to the gods, jumping off of Marina, who he had managed to pin down.

"Holy orcs in Mordor!" she gasped, unable to find a better swear-word. "What in Middle Earth were you thinking?"

"Me- I..." he fumbled in agitation, until finally he said, "What are YOU doing in MY tent?"

"Looking for my things," she said simply. "Until you so rudely jumped me."

He stared at her. Was she really that ignorant, or was she just testing him?

"Don't accuse me, woman!" he said. "You were trespassing in my tent- you could have been anyone- a spy or something."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "I'm going back to my tent."

"Oh no you don't," he said firmly. "I've learned my lesson. No more trusting you."

He bound her hands again, tying her to the wooden pole supporting his tent. "You'll stay where I can see you from now on."

"Why you arrogant..... self-absorbed.... thoughtless..." Her angry tirade was stopped when Boromir clamped a firm hand over her mouth.

"Shut up for a moment, will you?"

She bit him.

He yelled in suprise and drew his hand away. She had broken the skin lightly; a few drops of blood fell to the floor. In retaliation, he fastened a thick piece of cloth over her mouth.

She gave him a deathly angry look. He smirked and left her there, settling down on his own bed, some parchment maps in his hands. He soon discovered, though, that having Marina in the room was superficially distracting. He felt her eyes on him, watching him constantly. He tried to immerse himself in what he was reading, but to no avail- as he could not escape the watch of her dark eyes. Sleep, he knew, would be impossible. As the night began to break into the dawn, Marina finally succumbed to sleep, her head leaning against the wooden post to which she was bound. It was odd, thought Boromir, how innocent she looked, when just a few short hours ago, she had spoke with such fiery spite and anger.

When she awoke a few hours later, she found that Boromir had left. She was alone in the tent, still bound and gagged. There was nothing to do but wait for him to return. When he did, nearly a half-hour later, he walked right past her, not acknowledging that she was even there. She made a small noise, and he looked at her. She said something incoherent, and he removed the gag from her mouth.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I asked when you were going to let me go."  
"I'm not going to," he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

She frowned. "I grow tired of sitting here doing nothing," she said testily.

He shook his head in annoyance. "We'll be moving out this hour," he said. He untied her fron the tent-post, and moved her outside, re-tying her to a tree. "Stay here," he said as if she were a dog.

"As if I could go anywhere," she muttered.

(a/n: ahhh- can't you just feel the love vibes??)

He walked away. Marina sighed, and leaned her head against the tree. The day was cold- the threat of winter hung in the air. The only warmth came from the sun's pale yellow rays, which streamed down on the Gondorians as they broke camp. Marina shivered- she was unaccustomed to the cold; as Mordor was nothing but hot ash and fire. Boromir had said that Minas Tirith was three or four days away. What, she wondered would happen when they arrived there?

Did death await her? Or a dark, dingy cell?  
She did not fear death, but being locked away was a different story. To be put away... locked up... forgotten... it gave Marina chills to think about it.


	7. An Unexpected Attack

Chapter 7- An Unexpected Attack

They began riding a short time later, moving slowly across the plains. Marina was tired; and ontop of that, she had a driving headache, that pulsated through her cranium every time the horse took a step. She set her pride aside and leaned back against Boromir.

He noticed her new submissive manner, and wondered what was the cause of it.

"You know," he said tauntingly, "I think I rather like you better when you're quiet. You think you could stay like this?"

She rolled her eyes, though he didn't see. "For your information, _Captain,_ I have a headache- and your talking is not helping it in the slightest."

Boromir decided to keep quiet, so as not to agitate her any further. When he did speak again, it was much later in the day. The sun had passed overhead, and was now making its way to its resting place in the west.

"How long have you been fighting for Mordor, Marina?" he asked her.

"Nearly four months," she responded, forgetting to be cold or cruel.

"And they didn't discover you?"

She shook her head.

He snorted. "Pretty amazing. So I take it you didn't act like a spoiled little girl when you were with your battalion?"

"Spoiled-?" She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean by spoiled?"

He had struck a nerve.

She sat up, moving away from him again. "I do NOT act spoiled," she said. "I was not raised that way."

Boromir sniggered again.

She hated him.

"I loathe you, Captain," she said, expressing her thoughts verbally.

"The feeling's mutual, lady," he said back.

"Of all the brutes in Middle Earth I could have been captured by, it had to be you," she said maliciously.

"Yes- why me of all people?" he asked to no one in particular.

"You know what they say about fate," said Marina cooly. "That everyone gets what they deserve in life."

"So I suppose the question is what did I do in my life to deserve this curse sitting infront of me," he said sarcastically. "You know," he said as an afterthought, "I don't think I would even wish you upon my worst enemies- even they do not deserve to put up with you."

His words stung her slightly, but they attacked her pride and not her heart, only making her more crotchety.

"If I'm so terrible, then why can't you just let me go? What's the point of keeping a simple Mordor soldier in your posession. What will happen when we reach Minas Tirith that could not be accomplished out here in the Wild?"

She never heard his response, because at that moment, a volley of arrows came flying out of nowhere.

"Orcs!" someone yelled.

Boromir swore in Elvish. "Looks like your people have come for you," he said to Marina.

She snorted. "Orcs are not my people. They are deliverers of death, no matter where your homeland lies."

"Then we stand united against them then?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Then take this," he said, putting her sword in her hand. "And should you run," he added scathingly, "I will find you."

The battle intensified. Boromir and the rest of the soldiers rode on, firing arrows off in rounds.

"Take the reins!" Boromir shouted to Marina.

"You sure you want to do that, Captain? Remember what happened last time?" she added, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Take them, Marina, for the sake of the Valar!"

She grasped the leather strips as Boromir turned and fired off several more shots.

Suddenly, he felt Marina yank the reins to the left, cutting into the trees, away from the battle.

"Where are you going?" he yelled.

"Getting out of there," she replied.

"We can't leave the rest of the men!" he said. "Its my duty- I have to fight with them!"

"You're almost out of arrows!" she retorted. "You will not live more than a moment in battle!"

"If I am meant to die in battle, then I will!" he said, grabbing the reins from her and pulling the horse back around.

She swore under her breath. They rode back to the battle at full speed. The Gondorians had retreated to the treeline, most of them now horseless. It was a hopeless fight, Boromir knew. The Orcs were too strong, too resilient.

He jumped off of the horse, yanking it to a stop. A wounded soldier was lying nearby. Boromir picked him up, and put him on the horse infront of Marina.  
"Take him away from here," he said. "Take him into the woods- just get him out."

Marina looked at the captain strangely. "Why save him when you could save yourself?" she asked.

"Just go!" he said. "May the gods protect you."  
He turned his back to her and ran toward the rest of his men. Marina stared after him, then dug her heels into the horse's side, cantering away from the sound of battle.

She found a calm clearing somewhere in the wood; she lifted the soldier off the horse and laid him down. His wound was not bad- but he had lost some blood and was weak.

"I'm going back," said Marina, covering him with her cloak and dropping the saddlebag near him. "There's food in there, should I not return."  
And with that, she mounted the horse and galloped back to the battle, her sword grasped firmly in her hand. The fight had moved into the woods. The Gondorian army had been reduced to fifteen or so, fighting near fifty Orcs. Without thinking, Marina spurned the horse on, sword raised, ready to strike. She plowed into the crowd of Orc soldiers, slashing and cutting anything that her sword came in contact with. They were not anticipating an attack from her direction, and she slayed many of them before they realized what was happening. Her attack turned the tide of the battle. The men seemed more alert, they charged at the Orcs madly, vigorously. After killing another Orc soldier, Marina rounded her horse to look deeper into the forest. Under the shade of the thick trees, Boromir was fighting a tall, muscular Orc. There was a cut on his forehead, blood was running down the side of his face. She saw as he knocked the Orc's dagger away, but the beast grabbed him by the neck and threw him back. Boromir hit a tree with a sickening noise. The Orc picked up his sword again.

Marina jumped off of her horse, and ran as fast as she could toward them- her speed increased due to the absence of her armor. She threw herself infront of the Orc's blade, which was coming down in a straight path to Boromir's head. She met his blade with hers, holding him off, thinking with some annoyance that she was growing tired of throwing herself infront of the blade of an assailant for some helpless man. The Orc snarled angrily at her, and broke contact, moving quickly to strike her down. She blocked him, twirling her sword expertly, attacking and defending. Marina saw the Orc take out a small knife and hurl it toward her. She ducked just as it hissed by her ear. Then, straightening, she launched herself at the Orc, faking a lunge at his throat and striking him instead in the stomach. With her free hand, she knocked the blade from his hand, and used it to cut off his head. When her adversary had fallen, she stood over his body, catching her breath, and wiping the sweat from her brow. The battle was nearly done- most of the Orcs were either dead or retreating into the opposite side of the wood. Behind her, Marina heard Boromir stirring. Damn, she thought, he was still alive.

"Marina," she heard him say. She turned to face him. He was struggling to sit up. There was still blood on his face. He met her eyes, and knew that she was the reason why he was still breathing. "I-er... thank you," he said, mentally kicking himself for sounding so stupid.

"Don't thank me, Captain," she said cynically. "We're even now."

He immediately understood why she had stepped in when she had. It wasn't because she had cared about his life, but to repay him her debt for saving her life before. He was about to reply, but she walked off, bloodstained sword still in hand. She did not look back. Moments later, the other soldiers were crowded around their captain. He stood up, ignoring their comments, and stared after her. She strode over to the horse, and mounted. For a split second, he thought she was going to run, but then he saw her walk the horse over to the group of men. "I took one of the men into a forest clearing. I suggest we camp there tonight."

The men looked from her to Boromir, not wanting to take orders from one who was not their captain, much less a woman from Mordor. Boromir nodded. "Follow her," he said.

"Get on the horse, Captain," she commanded.

"I will walk," he said, though she could see that it pained him to do so.

"Don't be a fool. You'll not make it five feet yonder. Get on."

It was not a request. Boromir pulled himself up onto the horse infront of her, for at the last moment, she pushed herself farther back on the saddle. "If I let you sit in the back, you'll fall off the moment the beast moves," she said sarcastically. He was not amused.

Marina rode slowly, making sure that the men were behind her the whole time. When they came to the clearing, Boromir slid off the horse first, and Marina jumped down after him. He looked at her as though wanting to exchange words, but she made an excuse to take the horse down to a nearby stream to water him.

When she returned, Boromir was helping to tend to the wounded. When he saw her, he stood up and walked over to where she stood.

"How many are hurt?" she asked him.

"Nearly forty of the men, out of our company of one hundred. Thirty were lost between the two battles.

"Alas that I should live while your good men perish," Marina said quietly.

"Had it not been for you, I would have perished as well," he said meaningfully.

"I did not what you would not have done for another."

"And you are sure of this?" he tested her.

"Would you rather I left you for dead?" she snapped angrily.

"No," he said, not in the spirit to fight with her.

He would have said more, but she chose that moment to stalk off, facing away from the men, staring into the forest.

* * *

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	8. The River

Chapter 8- The River

Night fell soon after they made camp. The temperature decreased several degrees after the sun sank out of sight. Huddled against a tree, Marina shivered involuntarily, her lip turning blue. During the attack, the soldiers had lost most of their supplies. There were but a few tents left, and they had been given to the wounded among the group. The rest had been left to weather the cold in the outdoors. This was easy for the Gondorians, accustomed to the climate and to sleeping outdoors. But for Marina, it was the coldest she had ever felt in her life. She stayed away from the fire; when she had approached it previously, she had been met with the stares of many of the men. It was apparant that Boromir had told them who she really was. She hated the cold, but hated being watched even more, so she had secluded herself in the shadows. She had not, however, hidden herself from Boromir's sight. He approached her, cautiously, as though she were a wild animal, liable to bite.

"We are nearing Osgiliath," he said. "We will soon be at Minas Tirith."

"And what will happen then?" she questioned. Her voice was heavy with tiredness.

He didn't answer. He had been wondering the same thing. Most likely, death for her. She would be accused of treason and aiding the enemy. She would find no sanctuary in the White City. But for some reason, he could not bring himself to tell her this.

Marina looked around, her gaze drifting into the forrest. They were still not safe. "We're still being followed," she said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"The Orcs," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "They follow us still.

"How is it you know this?" he asked.

"Orcs never travel in such small numbers," she said. "There are at least thirty more of them, tracking us. They know where we are going. They are searching for hidden ways into Osgiliath. Ways that only men could show them..."

"You are sure of this?"

Marina nodded.

"You should sleep by the fire," he said. "Its too dangerous here on the border of the wood."

"I am fine," she said steadily.

He decided not to argue. "I do not know why you help us," he said, turning to leave. "But I thank you for it."

And with that, he was gone.  
Marina curled up against the three, trying to get comfortable. She was going to have one hell of a backache tomorrow, she knew. Slowly, the world began to fade out, and she began to drift into a restless sleep. The next morning when she awoke, she felt that someone had put a blanket over her. Looking closely at it, she realized that it was a green cloak. Thinking that it had probably saved her from freezing to death, she wrapped it more tightly around herself. The sun had barely begun to rise, and the other men were not awake yet. She was about to drift back to sleep, when she heard the distict sound of an Orc grunt. She knew their signals; she had heard them repeatedly at the Gate. Her body went rigid and stock still. She waited for several moments, and, hearing nothing, she stood up and crept quietly to Boromir's tent. She opened the flap soundlessly, and crept in. The captain of Gondor was sprawled out underneath a thin blanket on a bedroll. She bent down next to him, not sure how to go about waking him up. If he made a sudden move or noise, there was no telling what the Orcs would do. They might ambush the humans, or they might remain hidden, Marina couldn't say for sure. She put a hand over Boromir's mouth and punched him on the shoulder. The reaction was faster than she had anticipated. His hand shot out and grabbed the hand that had just punched him.

"Don't make a sound," she hissed at him. "We're surrounded."

Her eyes did not lie. Boromir nodded, and she removed her hand. He sat up and looked at her.  
"How many?" he mouthed quietly.

Marina shook her head. "I don't know. But we are being followed."

Boromir stared away from her. "We have nearly forty wounded... thirty men who are able to fight... all of whom are weak and hungry... and we have one horse. That will not make for much of a standoff."

He hesitated. He didn't want to look like a bad leader infront of Marina. But his men were at stake. Surely he could put his pride behind him. But then again, he thought, she was still a prisoner. She was a traitor of his race. For all he knew, she could be leading them astray. This could all be one big trap.

"Why should I believe your word?" he asked levelly.

She frowned at his question. Was this man really a big enough idiot to not take her seriously?

"Because," she hissed, "those Orcs will attack any human- friend or foe. They do not know me. As far as they are concerned, I am one of you. They will not spare me any more than they would spare you. And since you so kindly decided to spare my life a few days ago, I have no intention of forfeiting it now."

Praying to the Valar that he wasn't being lead astray, Boromir raised his eyes up to meet Marina's and said, "What should we do?"

She thought for a moment, biting her lower lip in concentration. "I'm not sure," she said slowly. "You've gotten us into a pretty precarious situation...."

She was accusing him.

"Me?" he asked hotly, keeping his voice down, although his low tones did not mute the anger in his voice. "Who was the one who lead us into this clearing in the first place?"

She shook her head violently, temper flaring up again.

Boromir continued his angry tirade. "You want to know something, woman? This entire thing is your fault! If we hadn't stopped to help you, we could be a full day ahead of this. My only fault was letting you live in the first place!" he spat the last words out as though they were poison.

Marina's eyes turned icy cold. She reaced over and picked up his small knife that was resting by his bed. Thrusting it at him, she said, "Do it, then. Why leave room for regret? Do it now. Will that solve your problems?"

He took the knife from her, and noticed with satisfaction a small flicker of fear in her eyes as he jerked it out of her hands. But rather than striking her, he put the knife back in its scabbard, saying quietly, "Killing you will not benefit me in any way. Besides, you are one extra sword, that I cannot afford to lose."

Marina crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine then," she said.

Boromir let out a deep breath. "Now," he said. "Do you know any way to get out of this?"

"Y-ess," she said thoughtfully, tapping on her jawbone with her forefinger. "But the troops will have to split up."

"Explain," he said.

"All right," she began. "Do you have a map of this area?"

Boromir pulled out the piece of parchment he had been looking at a few nights ago and handed it to her. He pointed out their location. She studied it for several minutes, lips pursed in a tight frown.

She finally spoke, pushing a strand of her black hair out of her face as she did so. "Right. We'll need to split up. Take about twenty- no- fifteen of your best men. We'll go with them as scouts. We'll go on ahead of the rest of the men. We can lead the Orcs astray, away from the wounded. It will give them a chance. Leave the other able-bodied to defend the weak, should it come to that." She continued. "The Orcs tailing us are tracking us. They want to know secret ways. They will follow scouts rather than a whole army, because not only are we going more quickly, we are also smaller in number."

"Well that sounds wonderful," said Boromir sarcastically. "If you're an ORC!"

"Shhhh!" she hissed. "Its the only plan we've got. Unless you have a better one."

It was evident that he did not.

"Then seeing as its the best plan we've got, let's go. Go round up your men."

Reluctantly, Boromir nodded and stood, preparing to leave the tent.

"One more question, Captain."

He turned to face her. "Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

He had been ready to answer any question she asked- except for that one. He looked at her in a peculiar way for a moment, then said, "Only time will tell of that, Marina."

She shook her head in frustration as he crept out of the tent. No matter how hard she tried, she could not figure the man out. One moment, he was trusting her and even upholding a conversation with her; the next, he was treating her like a traitorous murderer. But what did she care? As soon as they reached Minas Tirith, she would never see him again.

Grimly, she realized that she might never see anything again.

She knew the likelihood of them killing her was good......

Boromir returned several moments later. "It is done," he said. "The men are preparing to move out as we speak.

"Good," said Marina, nodding in approval. "We have to go outside. Just act normal- but stay close. No one must ever go anywhere far from the camp alone. Its too easy for the Orcs to resist."

She opened the tent flap and stepped out, looking casual, but eyes wary- alert to any sudden moves.

Boromir was right behind her. She could feel him tense up.

"Relax," she hissed. "Orcs can smell fear, remember."

Marina walked over to where the single horse left stood. She stroked the beast gently, and rubbed his nose. Slowly, apprehensively, the other Gondorians began to appear. There were about thirteen or so, all armed with swords and bows and arrows.

Boromir mounted the horse, and they moved out, leaving the camp behind them. "I hope you're right about this," Boromir said out of the corner of his mouth to the woman walking next to him.

So do I she thought. If she wasn't, they would all die for sure.

They rode on, deeper and deeper into the forest. Out of the corner of her eye, Marina saw an Orc darting behind a tree- tall and black-skinned. She caught Boromir's eye, and he nodded. She noticed how tightly he was gripping the reins. Absentmindedly, Marina's hand drifted to the hilt of her sword. Suddenly, from the back of the group, she heard a shout, and an Orc-cry.

She rounded and took out her sword in one swift motion. Theie cover had been blown, that much was clear. From what it looked like, one of the younger knights had panicked and fired an arrow at one of the Orcs. She could see the black creatures, emerging out from behind trees. They were greatly outnumbered.

She looked at Boromir. "There will be no victory here," she said. Then, louder, she yelled the only thing she could think of. "RUN!!"

The Gondorians needed no more encouragement. Marina made to run, but felt a hand on the back of her cape, jerking her up. A moment later, she had landed akwardly on the horse in front of Boromir. Taking only enough time to make sure she was secure, he spurned the horse, and they began to gallop away. The men had begun to split up, taking separate routes into the wood. Most of the Orcs, though, still trailed the captain and his horse. Boromir looked over his shoulder and saw the thundering Orc battalion charging over the rocks and twigs, all having murderous looks in their eyes.

He also noticed the horse losing speed. He knew that the mare had traveled great distances over the past days, and that he wouldn't last for much longer.

Marina must have felt the change of pace too, because she said, "Looks like this might just be the end..."

"Is there nothing else we can do?" he asked frantically.

"I don't know!" she said frustratedly. Wait, she thought, remembering something she had seen on the map. "How close are we to the river?" she asked loudly.

"It's very close to here!" said Boromir. "But how will that help us?"

"Orcs don't cross water- they can't swim! But-"

It was too late. Boromir jerked the reins sharply to the right and cut the horse deeper into the trees, charging with all speed toward the Great River. By some luck, the riders managed to put a little more space between themselves and their pursuers- but not much. When they reached the river, they discovered that they were standing on a cliff face- overlooking a twenty foot drop into the raging rapids. They jumped off of the horse, both drawing back in suprise when they realized what they were up against.

Boromir hadn't been expecting this. But there was no other way out of their situation.

"Jump!" he said.

Marina looked at him, with an expression mixed with fear and pure terror. She shook her head- eyes wide.

"We have to!" he said. He could hear the Orcs' footfalls. They were nearly upon them. "It is our only chance!"

"I can't!" she said.

"Why?"

"Because I can't swim!" she said loudly, though her voice shook.

With one swift movement, he pulled her out of the way as an arrow shot through the air.

"Do you trust me Marina?" he asked suddenly.

She looked suprised by the queston. She nodded, but her brain wasn't quite functioning correctly. The next thing that happened was a blur to her. Without warning, Boromir fastened his arms securely around her, and jumped off the cliff with her in tow.

They hit the water with a smacking sound.

The coldness of the river hit Marina like a shockwave. She was pulled under, gasping from cold, choking on the water. She felt Boromir being yanked away from her, and began to panic. She had never swam a stroke in her life. The current pulled her down, deeper and deeper into the blue darkness. Then, with a great force, she was thrust upward again. She had time only to gasp a few life-saving breaths before she was pulled under a second time.

Just behind her, Boromir was looking around frantically, head above the water._ Where was Marina_? he thought cryptically, turning his head around wildly. He saw her break through the surface aways infront of him.

"Marina!" he yelled, and then watched as she was pulled under again. Using up the last of his strength, he swam harder through the water, trying to reach her, until his hand closed around her cloak. She was unconscious when he pulled her head above the water. He had to get her out of the river. They were far enough away from the Orcs.

But fate was not ready to release them yet.

Around another riverbend, Boromir saw, heart plummeting in his chest, more rapids. Sharper and more deadly rocks, and churning waters awaited them. There was little time to do anything; he felt the current intensify and the two of them were dragged under again. The waters held them under much longer this time. Boromir felt the last of the oxygen leaving him- he couldn't last much longer without air, and Marina's weight was making the fight to the surface a slow and draining process. Before long, he began to realize that it was hopeless. There was no reason to fight it anymore. Finally, they were defeated.

He let the water drag him downward- farther and farther down, ready to surrender to whatever fate had in store for him.

The world began to darken around him.

He didn't know if it was the feeling of death or something else that made everything suddenly become still...

And then he felt it- air in his lungs; he was breathing again!

The water around him was calmer now- it looked like they had cleared the worst of the rapids. Unwilling to chance their luck by drifting further, Boromir began to swim wearily toward the shoreline. As he got closer, he felt his feet scraping the bottom, and immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Having ground beneath his feet again made him feel more secure somehow. He made his way out of the water, carrying Marina's limp body in his arms. The two of them collapsed when they were once again on dry land- the last of Boromir's strength giving out. After a moment's pause, he turned his attention to the woman next to him. He rolled her over onto her back, leaning down over her and straining to hear any sign of life that might still be left in her. She had a pulse- a very faint one, but it was there. He tilted her head back, acting on pure instinct, and pressed his lips to hers, breathing life back into her body. He drew back, and listened for her heartbeat again. It seemed to be growing stronger, but she showed no signs of stirring. He leaned back over her, preparing to breathe into her again, when she sat up suddenly, choking up a large amount of water. Boromir pulled his head back just in time.

Her dark eyes were wide with fear.

"Are you all right?" he asked hesitantly.

She met his eyes and nodded slowly. She was shivering violently; the air was cold, and Boromir knew it would be even worse when night fell. He would need to make a fire, but didn't want to risk doing it right there in the open. The plunge into the river had disoriented his sense of direction- he couldn't tell which side of the river they had come from.

"We have to move into the forest," he said. "It will be safer under the cover of the trees."

She nodded, and tried to stand, but failed.

Without leaving room for her to protest, he scooped her up, cradling her against him as he began to walk away from the riverside. She didn't say a word.

They walked for a short time into the wood, as the sky began to darken. When he figured they had gone far enough, Boromir stopped and set Marina down gently. He covered her up with the wet cloak- knowing that it would do little, but it was the only thing he could offer her. He set about making a fire with his drenched flint and a pile of dry wood. It took him several tries, but at long last, a bright orange blaze had sprung up, sending the smell of woodsmoke into the cold air. Weakly, Marina crawled closer to the fire. The ordeal in the river had deprived her of much of her strength, and had shaken her up. She felt oddly lightheaded, like she was intoxicated. She tried to sit upright, but felt herself falling backwards. Boromir's arms caught her, and she blacked out again, lapsing into a deep sleep.

A/N: REVIEW :)


	9. Delirium

Chapter 9- Delirium

sorry this is so short... but review anyway!:)

* * *

Marina's muscles ached.

That was the first thought that ran through her mind when she regained full consciousness. She kept her eyes closed, still feeling weak. The air was frigid, and smelled of smoke and dew. She was lying where she had fallen the night before- and she was not alone. When she realized that, she snapped her eyes open and sat up suddenly, causing her shoulder to blister with pain. She was horrified to find that she had been curled up next to Boromir who had had his arm lightly around her waist. She stood up shakily, and moved away. The captain slept on. Drawing the cloak more tightly around herself, Marina paced slowly around the area where they were staying. A thought struck her. There was no sign of any of the other men. They were alone.

A small noise behind her told her that Boromir had awakened.

"Not trying to run, are you?" he asked lightly.

She bowed her head, not turning to face him. "No." Her voice was heavy and weary. She held herself with a defeated air. "I have not the strength to walk five paces away from here."

He stood up and moved closer. At the same time, she turned slowly. She looked terrible.

Her skin was paler than usual and her lips were discolored. There were dark patches under her eyes, and... dried blood on her shoulder. She had gashed it on a rock in the river.

"You're hurt," said Boromir.

In a trancelike way, Marina looked down at her shoulder. She saw the dried up blood and swayed uneasily. Then, without warning, she doubled over and threw up, falling down on one knee. He went around behind her and held her arms firmly. Her skin was burning up, but she was shivering violently.

Fever, he thought. He began to worry. They were out in the Wild, with no medicine or food, and what was more, the sky was beginning to look menacing- turning a greyish-black color. If they were caught in the rain, he knew they would be done for, with no shelter. Marina gave a final shudder, and fell backwards into him. He eased her down to the ground gently, lying her flat on her back.

"Marina," he said, shaking her a little. Her eyes opened blearily, but he saw that there was a faraway look in them. She was conscious, but in a state of delirium.

"Marina," he said louder. "Can you hear me?"

She didn't respond. Off in the distance, Boromir heard a deep rumbling. The storm was coming.

His military training kicked in. He began constructing a lean- to with his cloak and some thick sticks. It wasn't a very sturdy shelter, but it was something that might help them stay dry. He had constructed it propping up the middle so that the water would run off the sides rather than soak through. He picked Marina up again and put her under the shelter. She was still burning up, he noticed. She would be lucky to survive the night. She murmured something as he laid her down on the ground, but fell silent again. Boromir strained his mind to try and think of some herb or plant that could be used as a remedy, but he couldn't remember. Cursing his ignorance, he wished that he were Faramir. His brother would know what to do. Faramir would be able to save Marina. He had always been the scholar- he knew about anything and everything.

But Faramir wasn't there.

There was nothing Boromir could do but wait.

The thunder rolled again, sounding closer now than ever before.

* * *

As the night wore on, Marina began to dream.

Her dream was strange- she was walking through Mordor, underneath the familiar orange sky. She was leading a group of armed men through a particularly rocky area, when she heard footfalls. Orcs, she thought. She squinted onto the horizon, and saw a group of soldiers charging toward her. But as they drew nearer, she realized that they were not Orcs.

It was Ereidain, followed by a hundredstrong or more menacing looking men.

Marina raised her hand in friendship, but they continued the charge. She strained her ears, as a chant met them.

_Kill the traitors. Kill the traitors._

Ereidain charged at her, sword raised, his company following suit.

"Traitor!" he yelled, thrusting his blade in the direction of her heart. She blocked him, moving backwards to fend off his attack.

"No... Ereidain- no!" she said in a choked voice.

"You betrayed us all!" he shouted, attacking her more viciously than ever before.

"No- no- it's me! Don't you know me?! I would never betray you!"

"LIAR!"

It was no use. Marina moved quicker now, switching stances from defensive to attack. She advanced on Ereidain, turning the tide of the battle, until finally, she struck him down.

She gasped as she felt her sword pierce his flesh through a soft spot in his armor. He fell to the ground, motionless.

Dead.

Marina gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes closed and dropping her sword with a clanging noise.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that it was no longer Ereidain lying on the ground.....

It was Boromir.

* * *

a/n: hmmmmm- what could that mean.....? review, and all will be revealed....

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!


	10. Fire in the Rain

Chapter 10- Fire in the Rain

The thunder rolled steadily, echoing through the trees. Every few moments brought another brilliant flash of lightning. Outside the shelter, rain was pounding down on the earth relentlessly. It was beginning to drip through some places in the lean-to, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

On one side of the lean-to, Boromir sat, staring into space. Marina was still in a deep sleep. He checked on her from time to time- she was still burning with a dangerously high fever, but she was shivering uncontrollably. Her sudden movement jerked him out of his silent reverie. She suddenly made a sharp move, turning, twisting, thrashing around like she was having a seizure.

"No..." he heard her mumble, "no.... Ereidain...no!" her voice sobbed. Boromir stared at her. Who was Ereidain? he wondered. He was about to wake her up, when she suddenly stopped moving, falling back once again into her trancelike, uninterrupted sleep. He reached over and felt her forehead. She felt a slight bit cooler, like her temperature had dropped a few degrees. He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe the fever would break.

With that, Boromir felt himself grow tired as well. His eyes were heavy from staying awake, and he too soon fell asleep.

* * *

Something woke him in the middle of the night.

He sat up and saw Marina sitting at the front of the shelter, staring outside into the storm.

"Marina?" he hissed quietly.

She turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide. "What's going on?" she asked, looking nervous.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Water... falling from the sky. I've never seen anything so strange."

He gave her a funny look. Then he realized- living in Mordor her whole life, she had never seen rain before.

"It's called rain, Marina," he said. "It's normal."

"I've never seen it before..." she said softly.

"It probably doesn't rain in Mordor," he said.

"It's beautiful," she said suddenly. "It's beautiful... but sad."

Boromir could think of nothing to say to this. Instead, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

She shook herself. "Like I was trampled by a herd of stampeding Orcs," she responded wearily.

"You should rest," he said. "Regain your strength. We can't stay here forever without food. We must set out for Minas Tirith tomorrow."

She nodded, and Boromir laid back down, falling back into the clutches of sleep quickly. Marina, however, remained awake, transfixed by the rain. It was as if the world was crying for something, or someone. The sight of it brought tears to Marina's dark eyes.

* * *

The rain continued into the next day. The two of them broke camp, and began to walk, following the river, which Boromir knew would bring them to Minas Tirith. He couldn't say exactly how near they were, but he knew that they were close. They walked slowly; Marina was still tipsy from the fever, and had to stop frequently. As they walked along through the trees, Boromir's thoughts drifted to Marina. They had been in each other's company for nearly a week, and he still didn't know what to think of her. She was, without a doubt, the most confusing person he had ever met, and the perplexity of her personality made him frustrated. It was as though she were playing a child's game, always hiding and running away from him, trying to keep a secret. He knew that he should hate her, because she served Sauron and had sworn loyalty to his lands, but he found that he did not.

Or at least, he wouldn't call it hate.

She got on his nerves, yes; annoyed him to his breaking point, but somehow... he did not entirely loathe her. He thought of what would happen when they reached Minas Tirith. The iron fist of justice would find the fiery Mordorian woman. Her fate would be grim.

As he looked over at her, watching as she struggled to walk, to stay up, and thought that she did not deserve death. Not when she had come so close to it on many occasions. If she was meant to die, she would have by now.

And besides, he thought, she had been serving Mordor to save her family.

He began having an argument with himself. He had to choose between fulfilling his duty to his lord and father and deliver Marina to whatever fate awaited her inside the city gates... and letting her go. The line between which choice was the hardest to do was very thin.

* * *

They stopped shortly before nightfall. The rain was still falling, but it was coming down more gently. The whole earth was wet- small puddles had long since formed in depressions in the soil. They were in for another uncomdortable night, thought Marina as she shivered and pulled her cloak closer to her. Her breath formed small clouds on the air when she exhaled. She glanced over at Boromir, standing a few paces away from her. She leaned against a tree, not wanting to sit down on the soggy ground just yet.

"So," she said bleakly. "How long can we cheat death this time?"

He shrugged. "You seem to be an expert in such things. You tell me."

"I have luck on my side, captain." She laughed cynically. "Except in this case, I believe it has failed me. Because I'm stranded in enemy lands with no food, no water, and...er- you."

"Thank you very much," he said sarcastically.

"Well," she said pointedly, "if you don't mind me saying so, it is your fault that we took a suicidal jump into the river."

Not again, he thought. This bickering was not only pointless, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. "Why do you do that?" he asked.

"What?" she cocked her head at him.

"Pick a fight with me all the time."

"I do no such thing."

"Then what do you call what you're doing at this very moment?"

"I'm having fun before I die," she said sarcastically.

"There are better ways to do that, you know."

"Oh really? Enlighten me."

"I could." He moved closer. Realizing what she had just nearly set herself up for, she stepped back. "Why do you recoil?" he asked. "I mean you no harm."

"Need I remind you what happened the last time you told me that?" she asked coyly.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Yes.. the last time I said that, I got in return the most fiery, irritating, sarcastic woman in all of Middle Earth. My fortunes haven't improved much..."

Her comment had meant to anger him, but Marina saw that it had not. Instead, he had a half-smile on his face, as though he were amused by her. She didn't like the way he was looking at her.

"Stop," she said feebly.

"Stop what?" he asked.

"Stop laughing at me!" she snapped.

"I'm not laughing," he said merrily.

"Yes you are."

"Fine." His face turned serious- the intense brown eyes stared into hers. Never before had Marina felt so uncomfortable. How was it that Boromir could make her feel like that, she wondered.

She tried to look away, but her head was strangely immobile. Maybe she was still feverish, she thought. Boromir was much closer to her now... her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure that the whole forest could hear it.

Their lips were inches apart...

Marina could taste the rain on his lips as he kissed her. A shock of warmth ran through her, a sensation like she had never felt before. Boromir put his arms around her, drawing her into him. She drew in a sharp breath when he brushed her wounded shoulder blade, and he paused for a moment, thinking he had hurt her. She shook her head, and they kissed again, a deeper and more satisfying kiss than the last. "Marina..." she heard him say softly, his breath warm on her neck. "You have to get out of here," he said.

She pulled away from him a few inches. "What?"

"Leave now- just get away."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

"We'll be in Minas Tirith tomorrow," he said.

"I don't care," she said, making to kiss him again. He put a finger to her lips.

"Marina... they will kill you if you go there. I ask you to leave so that you may save your own life."

She stepped back even further, looking confused and hurt. "And so you waited until now to bid me leave? Why did you not release me sooner? If you were planning to bring me all this way just to leave me in the Wild-"

He shook his head. "When I first captured you, I had every intention of taking you to Minas Tirith.... Because I didn't care what would happen to you. But that changed. Much as I didn't want it to, it changed.... You do not deserve death. Take your freedom. It is yours now."

He handed her sword to her. "Go."

She looked at him stonily. "Very well," she said, voice as cold as the winter air. "Goodbye, Boromir."

And with that, she left- evaporating into the fog and brush of the forest.

Just like that, she was out of his life.

a/n: oooo- burn!!! Now really, was anyone out there expecting that???? What-oh-what will happen next???? Will she stay gone? REVIEW!!!


	11. The Road to Dol Amroth

SORRY FOR THE LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE

thanks to my reviewers:

Ilenya the fair- thanks a million for the review. hope you enjoy chapter 11!

lordoftheringsreviewer- thank you so so so much for reviewing!!! keep reading and i'll (hopefully) keep posting!

the unknown reviewer- thanks again. i'm glad this story doesn't totally bite. you have a cool name, by the way. :)

Phoenix- i guess i can see where your're coming from on that one Faramir line. when i wrote it, i thought it sounded okay, but i can see where it kinda sounds off-character. don't get me wrong, Faramir is one of my favorite characters, so if the whole dialogue sounded crappy, i'm very sorry. anyway, keep reading and keep the criticism coming! (i will take it all.... the good, the bad....and the ugly!)

ALSO: i should warn you- I am not a tolkien EXPERT. nor do I try to be. so.... if anything i say in here happens to be... um..... wrong- by all means, correct me! as for any elvish that you might see anywhere, the translations will be at the bottom of the screen. once again, if there's anything wrong with that, feel free to correct me on it. many thanx!! as for the Mordor-ish words, well, um... I just had to make them up. Don't flame for that, please!

ONE more note on ages: in this story, Boromir is somewhere younger than 40. make whatever you will of that. dates are altogether confuzzling. (and that word was completely caffeine induced.) okay. onward.

* * *

Chapter 11- The Road To Dol Amroth

Marina trudged through the woods as fast as she could- not hearing any sounds, not seeing anything, not even remembering to breathe. Her only thought was to get as far away from Boromir as possible. He had turned her loose- she never wanted to see his face again.

Ever.

But then, as she made her way clumsily through the trees, she found that the thought made her feel empty and cold inside, like she was buried under layers of ice.

Her mind was on rewind- reliving every second of the kiss they had just shared.

The kiss.

The thought of it made her shiver. Why? she thought. Why had she let herself do that? What had come over her- what force had possessed her to let him that close to her? The fever, she thought. The fever was the only explanation for it. She had still been delirious.

In her heart, though, she knew that she was lying to herself. If she had been delirious, she wouldn't have felt anything. If she had been delirious, leaving wouldn't hurt so much.

The storm pounded down on her, much harder now.

The rain blurred her vision, blinding her to all direction. She didn't see the tree root protruding out of the forest floor.

As she hit the ground, she felt her ankle twist, sending pain up and down her leg.

The tears came, and she let them fall, mounting into chest-racking sobs that fell on the deaf ears of the Wild.

* * *

A short way off, Boromir had resumed his walk toward Minas Tirith, kicking himself mentally. Try as he might, he was unable to explain his actions. He kept looking over his shoulder, hoping that maybe she would follow him again... but every time he looked, his prayers were unanswered.

But why did he care? he kept asking himself. Why did he give a care about what happened to a woman he had known just over a week?

The only answer was one that he was unwilling to accept.

It went against everything that he knew.

* * *

Marina was still slumped against the tree some time later. Night had taken over the sky- the world was now fully dark. From where she was, she could hear things moving under cover of darkness. She shivered. She was alone in the middle of the forest, with no food or water. Defeatedly, Marina tucked her legs under herself and curled up against the tree- waiting for death.

But to her dismay, death did not come. Her body refused to give up yet.

She fell in and out of a fitful sleep, waking every hour from terrible nightmares, but forgetting them as soon as her eyes opened. The night seemed to last an entire age. When the sun finally began to rise the world from her slumber, Marina felt even more tired and weak than she had been the night before. The sun continued to rise, but Marina had no intention of ever getting up. She didn't want to go on. There was no place for her any longer on the earth.

She closed her eyes again, when she felt something brush her hand. Something was licking her palm, with a warm wet tongue. She opened her eyes and saw, with a jolt of her heart, a silver wolf standing next to her. When it felt her stir, the wolf raised his black eyes, looking at her almost kindly. He made a small, whining noise in the back of his throat, and Marina realized that he meant her no harm. She sat up slowly, looking around- aware that there may be more wolves hiding in the brush. Seconds passed, but there was no more movement. Feeling that it was safe, she rose to her feet and took a deep breath. The wolf whined again, nudging her hand that was resting her side. She looked down at the canine and said, "Well. Where do I go from here?" She wasn't sure if she was speaking to the wolf or to herself, but as if he had an answer, the wolf pranced a few feet away from where she stood, before stopping to look back with an expression that clearly said 'this way'. Marina hesitated. Was she really going to follow a wolf to god knows where? But then, she thought, what did she have to lose? Her old life had pretty much died the moment that Boromir had struck her down- and, she thought, with a pang: her new one had started the moment he had lifted her up.

She shook off her thoughts of the Gondorian. He was only a memory now, something to be forgotten. What they had shared the previous night had been a mistake, and nothing more. The thought did not bring her comfort, but it gave her the will to follow the wolf further into the woods. The pain in her ankle had died off substantially, enough for her to manage walking. He lead her West for the day- through an endless length of trees and sloping terrain. From what she had seen on the map that Boromir had showed her, she concluded that she was heading toward the land of Anorien. It was around nightfall when Marina began to feel extremely hungry. She had a high tolerance for pain and could live without food, but the hunger pains hit her stomach with a force so great that she found her steps weakening, until she finally stopped, sinking to the ground, famished. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a decent meal. The wolf looked back at her, turning around and sitting beside her. Then, without warning, he pranced off into the thickness of the trees, leaving Marina alone.

Cursing everything that lived and breathed, Marina fell back onto the stony ground. "What is this punishment?" she asked aloud. "What wrong have I done? What am I paying for?"

The pains in her empty stomach gripped her tightly, like two massive hands were squeezing her. She felt hollow and empty inside, and useless to the world. It suddenly struck her how unnervingly quiet the forest was. There was a silent, sleepy spell-like atmosphere to the place, and Marina wasn't sure if she liked it.

A rustling noise in the brush a short time later let her know that her canine companion had returned. Marina breathed a sigh of relief when the wolf pranced back into her view- he was her only friend, her guide in this strange land. She noticed then that he was carrying something in his mouth. He lowered his head and dropped before her a dead rabbit, and whined softly.

Her longing for food gave her the strength to gather a small amount of wood and make a fire. She cooked the rabbit on a spit, then began to devour it ravenously. It was hot and tender, and she found herself strengthening a little more. She stopped halfway through it and threw a sizeable chunk of meat to the wolf. He took it in his jaws hungrily, and settled down to eat it.

Marina studied the animal, and said, as if it could understand human speech, "I suppose I should give you a name."

He cocked his head at her, and she laughed. "I'll call you Nazgrath. It means 'little hunter' in the Black language. What do you think?"

The wolf cocked his head even further.

"Maybe just Naz for short," said Marina.

Naz gave a grunt of approval.

As it grew steadily darker, the small fire began to dim. Marina knew it would soon run out of fuel, but the last thing she wanted to do was venture away from its security to gather wood. She would do without it. Curling up beneath her cloak, she fell into a dreamless sleep- her mind wondering what the next day would bring.

She continued in that fashion for several days. She would rise every morning, bury what was left of the fire, and follow Naz through the forest. He seemed to know where he was going, which was just as well, as she did not. Every evening, he would go out hunting, bringing back an unfortunate rabbit or squirrel or other beast. Before long, their route turned southward, and Marina felt the terrain rising steadily under her feet. They were in the foothills of the White Mountains. During the day, Marina's thoughts drifted to her family and her past life, but she never dwelled long on anything. She didn't think, she just existed, a lone figure walking a long road to nowhere. All in all, she found Naz to be pleasurable company- he listened when she spoke, and she never had to worry about arguing with him.... like she had with Boromir. He also occupied her thoughts on an almost-daily basis. No matter how hard she tried, Marina could not forget him. She spent the hours recounting every moment she had spent as a prisoner, remembering what they had said to each other, their senseless bantering, all the times that he had helped her. If only he was here to help her now, she thought absent-mindedly.

No, her mind kicked in. I do not need him. I do not need anyone. I am strong, and independent. I do not depend on someone else.

She shook herself, resolved and focused now. It was time to put Boromir behind her. For good. She did not need the shadow of his memory hanging over her like some phantom, evanescent ghost. She and Naz walked on through the mountains, passing no one as they went. Marina thought this a stroke of fortune- she knew that though her accent was not terrible, she would still sound different from the natives of this land. If anyone were to grow suspicious.... it would not bode well for her.

Nearly three weeks had passed since she and Boromir had parted ways, Marina thought to herself as she strained her muscles to climb the last leg of steep ground to the summit of the mountain, about twenty feet away. She had been hiking steadily uphill for the past three days, and her muscles were more sore than they had ever been at any point in her life before. A few feet in front of her, as always, was her loyal companion and guide. He looked back at her every few moments, as if urging her along. Grudgingly, Marina pushed herself onward, until finally, the ground leveled out. She found the summit to be a secluded vista, looking down into a small valley between the walls of the mountains. To the west, she saw more mountains stretching out as far as the eye could see, each visible peak taller than the last. To the south, she saw more mountains, though they were lower and more rugged than the ones to the west. Marina and Naz camped at the summit that night, beneath the veil of the stars. The night sky fascinated the Mordorian. It was clear, and one could glimpse straight up into the very heavens. She let out a deep breath, taking in the strange beauty of the stars twinkling overhead, tracing the outlines of the patterns they formed with her finger. When she fell finally to sleep, she had strange dreams of swirling stars and wolves. The pale morning sun roused her the next morning, and all visions were promptly forgotten.

As the day wore on, Marina noticed a change in Naz's behavior. He was more anxious than usual, moving faster through the woods, leaving the young woman to catch up with him. Toward nightfall, the wolf was all but running, and Marina was finding it harder and harder to keep pace. Up ahead, Marina began to see a dim glow through the trees. Curious, but equally apprehensive, she slowed, walking cautiously toward whatever it was. When she realized what she was looking at, she ducked behind the safety of a wide tree, swearing in the Black language. The glow had been coming from a campfire. Marina was no longer alone on the mountain. She did not know who they were- soldiers or otherwise. Looking around wildly, she found that she had lost sight of Naz. Risking a peek around the tree trunk, she saw that the senseless wolf had pranced right over to the people gathered around the fire. She had expected to hear their surprise at finding a wolf in their camp, but it never came. Then, she saw a tall, slender figure rise and stroke the wolf's head, murmuring something in a strange tongue. Marina was slightly taken aback when she saw that the figure was a woman. The woman glanced into the trees, and Marina snapped herself back behind the tree, praying that she hadn't been seen. She wondered if she should run. She could probably get away if she went now. But she was frozen with fear. What if they heard her? What if she was taken prisoner? Again? Her heart stopped as she heard footsteps coming nearer. She saw Naz's head peering around the tree, and then he came over to her, followed closely by the woman. At a closer distance, Marina saw that the woman was close to her own age, and very pretty. She had long, dark brown hair and grey eyes. She looked calmly at Marina and said, _"Aaye."_

Marina stared back at her levelly, not understanding her greeting. The young woman spoke again. "_Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?"_

Marina held up her hands in exasperation.

"Do you speak Elvish?" the girl asked in common speech.

Marina shook her in response.

"Where are you from?" the woman asked her.

The Mordorian hedged when she heard the question. To answer honestly was to condemn herself to death. "Gondor," she said, praying to the powers that her Mordor-accent would not show through.

The other woman smiled. "Aye. We are Gondorians also. My brothers and I come from the city of Dol Amroth, in the south."

Marina nodded, pretending to know what the girl was telling her.

"I am Lothiriel," the young woman said.

"Marina," Marina said.

"A name of a sea dweller. Your kin is from Belfalas, no?"

Marina shook her head. "From Minas Tirith," she fibbed expertly, banking on the knowledge Boromir had inadvertantly shared with her. "I have never been to Belfalas."

"Where are you bound, then?" Lothiriel asked, though not in a hard way.

Marina shrugged. "I do not know. My mother- my only kin- recently died of a fever. I set out to... see the rest of Middle Earth. To make a life for myself."

Lothiriel nodded. "An admirable ambition. I wish my life could be more similar to yours, but I am... bound by the rules of my father. I do not have the liberty to set off on my own." She looked wistful for a moment, then said, "Come, sit by the fire if you wish."

Marina followed her over. Around a merrily crackling wood fire sat four men.

"These three are my brothers," Lothiriel said, pointing to three young men, "Elphir, Erchirion, and Amrothos. And this," she gestured to the fourth man, dressed in full chain mail and armor, "is Marandir, our faithful guard."

"_Ya naa tanya, Lothiriel_?" asked the eldest of the brothers, Elphir.

"Her name is Marina. She is from Minas Tirith," Lothiriel responded. To Marina she said, "My brothers may act tough, but they mean no harm. They are wary of everything-" she glared at them. "And they believe that I am made of glass. They never let me do anything dangerous." She made a face. "Please, sit." she said kindy to Marina. They both sat down on logs by the fire, and the wolf sat next to Lothiriel, who stroked his head gently.

"The wolf lead you to us, no?" she asked.

Marina nodded. "If it had not been for him, I probably would not have survived. I was sick when he found me, and weak."

"Aye. Wise animals, wolves are. This one has been my friend for many years. My most faithful companion."

She smiled down at him. _"Lle ume quel, Huan-nin_." The wolf tossed its shaggy head, and nuzzled Lothiriel affectionately.

"I sent him out into the wild while we were in the city," Lothiriel explained. "I am glad that he was able to help you. He does not get along with everyone."

There was a pause, then Marina asked, "How far is it from Minas Tirith to your home?"

"It is a long ride, even by horse. It usually takes us a few weeks to get there. We have been riding for only five days, so there is much more road ahead of us." Lothiriel brushed a strand of hair away from her face, and continued. "We usually only go there twice a year, to visit my uncle and my cousins," she exhaled deeply. "Between the two of us, uncle Denethor is the absolute most uninteresting person in all of Middle Earth. But his sons make the trip worth it. Boromir and Faramir are like two more brothers to me."

Marina's heart froze. This woman was Boromir's cousin?

What if he had told her.....?

Lothiriel sensed discomfort coming from Marina's direction. "What is it?"

Marina found herself stuttering. "I... er-nothing. Boromir- he's the captain of the army, isn't he?"

Lothiriel nodded. "Yes. Stars, I would think you'd know that, if you've lived there all your life."

Marina flushed, and scrambled to recover. "Oh no- I did... I just wondered if we were talking about the same person...." she realized how stupid she must sound, and decided to just close her mouth.

Lothiriel laughed lightly. "I understand," she said, and Marina felt more at ease.

But then Lothiriel's expression changed. "I'm afraid though, that misfortune has befallen the army. Many of them were wiped out in their last mission. Boromir told me how they were ambushed by men from Mordor. Can you imagine men living in that place?" she shuddered, then continued, "anyway- it was an odyssey how he returned to Minas Tirith. He was ambushed by orcs, fled and had to escape by jumping into the river! I'm suprised he made it home alive, but he was in the infirmary for a fortnight after his return. Lord Denethor was not pleased to hear of his army's defeat, though," Her face hardened. "My uncle cares too much for his feeble army, and not enough for his sons. Too often does his job as Steward hinder him from his job as a father."

In her mind, Marina was beginning to put two and two together. Boromir was the son of the Steward of Gondor.... Denethor's heir. And Lothiriel was his cousin, which would make her noble also... royal, even. A short time later, Elphir suggested that they should sleep. "The road is long, and we must make good time," he said to Lothiriel.

"Will you travel with us tomorrow?" Lothiriel asked Marina. "We would be delighted to have you join us. If you have no other plans, you could come to Dol Amroth." She looked hopeful, and Marina suspected that she wanted another female around to talk to on the journey. Marina understood her predicament- the two women were not so different; both were forced into spending too much time with men. Marina was struck by how Elphir reminded her of Ereidain. When she thought of him, though, hot tears stung at her eyes, so she banished the thought and answered Lothiriel. "If it is not too much trouble... then I would love to come with you."

The other girl's face brightened, and for once, Marina smiled too.

Later in the night, after the others were asleep (except for Amrothos, who had the first watch.) Marina lay awake, thinking. She couldn't believe her good fortune. She was not a firm believer in fate, but she had to admit that it had probably had a hand in what had happened tonight. After awhile, her thoughts strayed to Boromir. How ironic that she should wind up in the company of none other than his cousin. Lothiriel had said that she had seen him- meaning that he had gotten back to Minas Tirith safely. In her heart, Marina wasn't sure whether to curse that or be relieved that he had survived. He was a subject of constant turmoil for her- a puzzle that she could not piece together for the life of her. She took a deep breath, and felt her chest hurt in the place she had been wounded. The pain was dull now- she was well used to it, and the bandages had long since come off. The physical signs of the battle had almost left her, but the memories burned like tiny fires in her mind. Feeling the blade piercing her skin, hearing her last words to Ereidain before he had left, seeing Boromir's deep brown eyes staring down at her. She remembered the sting of the ointment he had used on the wound, the gentle way his hands moved over her skin... She mentally pinched herself. Where in Mordor were those thoughts coming from? This was the arrogant, self-centered Gondorian prat who had held her captive for over a week. Not some addlepated prince charming from a silly fairy tale. Her dislike for him was still firmly intact. Feeling frustrated, she turned her attention to thinking about her family. What were they doing now, she wondered. She could picture Nevania and Dymian and Mikita at their home in the mountains, sitting before the fire. Did they know of her "death"? It was quite possible that they would not find out until Durmhuil and Ereidain were able to return home. A small part of her wanted to leave and return to her home, to see her family again, but a larger part of her wanted adventure. She still felt like she belonged to Mordor- after all, the Black Land still held her alliegance- but she wanted to see the rest of Middle Earth. She thought of the mark on her arm. The symbol of Sauron- a lidless eye, crude in design- emblazened in her skin; an eternal mark of who she was. No one must ever see it, she told herself. Especially not Lothiriel, or any of her brothers. No one could ever know the truth. Feeling tired, Marina rolled over and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to claim her.

* * *

They set off early the next morning, on horses- to Marina's delight. She had been walking every day for nearly a month, and her legs were grateful for the rest. She rode with Lothiriel, atop a white thoroughbred. They stopped at midday for water, then continued riding a short time later. As they rode in the afternoon sun, Marina began to feel exhausted. She hadn't fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning, and didn't feel as rested as she had hoped to be. A large, jaw-popping yawn escaped her, right as Amrothos rode up next to the two women.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Yes, Amrothos," interjected Lothiriel. "Tired of hearing your voice!"

"Relax, Iri."

"I hate it when you call me that," she glowered.

"That's why I do it," he said with a smirk.

"Nicknames are so foolish," said his sister, rolling her eyes. "Foolish and petty."

Amrothos shook his head and muttered something in Elvish under his breath.

"Well, Amrothos," said Lothiriel thoughtfully. "I know a perfect nickname for you...."

"Oh, please- indulge me."

She smiled sweetly at her brother and said, "I was thinking 'half-arsed pig."

He pretended to look stung. "Come on, Iri."

"I am being dead serious, brother." Looking at Marina, she asked, "What about you, Marina? Been called any absurd nicknames in your lifetime?"

Marina shrugged. Most of them were offensive Orc- curses shouted in Mordor.

"I know what to call her," said Amrothos. "How about 'Sleepless One'?"

"Where do you get that from?" Marina asked.

"You were wide awake last night," he responded. "I saw you."

"I was thinking," she explained.

"About what, I wonder?" speculated Amrothos.

"Well that would be none of your business anyway, you prying lout," said Lothiriel stubbornly.

Her brother pretended to look stung, galloping a few paces away in mock dejection.

"Ignore him," said Lothiriel, when he was well out of earshot.

With more privacy, Marina was determined to find out more. "So," she asked in a would-be casual way, "tell me about your family-" hoping to lead on to the topic of Boromir.

"Well," said Lothiriel with a sigh, "My father is the prince of Dol Amroth, meaning that my life until this point has been excrutiatingly boring. My mother died many years ago- I barely remember her- leaving my father with my brothers and I. But my story is boring. What about you?"

Thinking quickly, Marina began to weave her lie. Like a trained spider spinning a web, a story poured out of her mouth. "I was born in Minas Tirith. My father was in the army, and my mother was a seamstress. One day, my father left with the army. He never came back. We never found out what happened to him- if he lived or died. My mother and I lived peacefully together until she became ill. She was sick for months, until finally she died. I was left with our small house- worth almost nothing- and no other family. So I came out here..."

"You were not married, then?" Lothiriel asked.

Marina shook her head. "I never saw the need for marriage. I don't want to be dependent on anyone. My mother understood."  
"I wish I could be like you," said Lothiriel disdainfully. "My father has already begun looking for a suitor for me. When he finds one, I shall be given away to whichever man my father deems worthy. I don't want to marry, though. At least, not for diplomatic reasons. I would only marry for love."

Marina gave her a half smile. "Love is something which I know nothing about," she said. "I'm not sure I would recognize it if it came to me. But I do not desire it, and choose not to dwell on it."

"You're just like my cousin, Boromir," said Lothiriel. "That's his pessimistic outlook on life as well. Always too busy planning his battles and all. Well, I suppose he'll have to accept it now. His father arranged a marrirage with a wealthy woman from Minas Tirith. That's why we were there- they announced their engagement last week...."

Marina's spine went rigid. Boromir was.... getting married?

"Oh." was all she said. Finding her tongue, she said, "I didn't know of that. I left the city so many weeks ago-"  
"Well it was sudden. Even Boromir was suprised by it. He doesn't want to marry at all, but Denethor put his foot down. Honestly, that man is obsessed with ensuring he has heirs to his position as Steward."

"Who is the woman he's marrying?"

Lothiriel shrugged. "Her name is Lady Arien. I don't know much about her- I didn't get a chance to speak with her; we were there for such a short time."

As she spoke, Lothiriel sensed a strange emotion coming from the other woman. She couldn't say what it was for sure, but something was on Marina's mind that she wasn't sharing.

Inside herself, Marina wasn't sure whether to scream or cry. To stay still or punch the life out of something. Should she even care? she asked herself. Her mental argument ensued as she stared down the road ahead.

* * *

whew- long chapter. thank you to my reviewers out there, as always. you guys make me a happy author.

Elvish:

Aaye- hail

Lle quena i'lambe tel'Eldalie?- Do you speak elvish?

Ya naa tanya? Who is that?

Lle ume quel- you did well.

note: i got all these translations from fairly credible internet sources. by all means- correct me if i'm wrong. thanx& keep reading!!!!!


	12. No More than a Memory

okee-dokee: to my reviewers:

lordoftheringsfanficreader- thank you thank you thank you thank you!!! i love any feedback, but positive feedback is by far the best! i am so glad i'm keeping the characters true to how tolkien meant for them to be, cause this is truly his genius. i'm just tinkering with it in my own semi-twisted way. thanx again, and i'll try to update soon!! (also- have to apologise: i got ur name wrong on my last author's note. so sorry! ( please don't hate me!!! :) enjoy and... REVIEW!

Ilenya the fair- yep sad but true: bory's got himself into the death knot of holy matrimony. can Marina stop it? does she even want to? I'M NOT TELLING YET! MUAHAHAHAHAHA! (okay- i'm scaring myself) review, and all will be answered......

gondorian-gurl- thanks so much for your comments!!! just a note on how i got this inspiration for the story- the whole "people in Mordor" thing: if you watched the Two Towers DVD- that scene where frodo & sam are at the black gate and almost get caught by those 2 guys in the scary looking armor. i thought that was pretty cool, and then....well, this story was born! okay- enough rambling. keep the comments/feedback coming!!!!!! cause I LOVE REVIEWS!!!!

eepy- hey hey! kno ur out there& just waiting to write me a REALLY LONG REVIEW:) oh well- u kno i'll bug u on Saturday!!! can't wait!!!

cheers!

Chapter 12- No More than A Memory

(little flashback here. this chapter starts when Boromir arrives back at Minas Tirith- three days after he left Marina.)

Gondor- three weeks earlier

He was close.

The woodlands were beginning to look more and more familiar. He knew this area well- he had been through it countless times on scouting missions as a child. If he pressed on, he knew he would reach Minas Tirith the next day. He camped at nightfall, building a small fire and eating a small animal he killed with his dagger. The rain had thankfully let up several hours ago, but his clothes were still soaked, and in the chill of the night air, they became quite uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he was able to fall into a shallow sleep soon after the world darkened. His dreams were distorted and strange- they had an eerie feel to them: they were familiar, though he didn't recognize anything about it.

_He was in the middle of a thicket of trees in the dead of night. There was a moon out, but it kept passing behind clouds, throwing the earth into alternating phases of darkness and light. There was a light, misty fog enveloping the perimeter in which he stood, closing him in from everything else. From somewhere far away, he heard a strange, strangled noise. A yell. Swords clanging. The sound of the voice was one he recognized, and he began to run to it. A figure was lying on the ground- there was blood everywhere. He couldn't see who it was- and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the attacker run away through the trees. He turned to the wounded figure... the moon slid behind the clouds, blacking out his view......_

The dream changed.

_Fire..... everywhere he looked was covered in bright orange flames. The tongues of flame were consuming everything- moving closer to where he was standing. He turned to run away, but heard a scream. He spun around and saw Marina, standing amid the flames, a look of sheer terror on her face, frozen in fear. The flames were building- they were getting closer to him. He looked back to his escape route. It was right there- he could get out quickly. But she couldn't. Without thinking, he made to get her, but as he did so, the ground around her broke, shaking as if in an earthquake. She fell..... down...down...down into nothing, sending out a piercing scream as she went. When he looked up, he saw her place had been taken by a tall, black-cloaked figure, whose face was obscured by a hood. The creature took out a sword, and then Boromir felt himself falling to, just as Marina had...._

"NO!" Boromir was jerked from sleep with a short cry. He sat bolt upright, breathing hard. Why,he thought desperately. Why does she haunt my dreams like this? Though he wanted to deny it, he knew that Marina had been occupying his subconscious dreams of late. Every night, consistently, she was there. Sometimes the dreams were nightmares, other times he would just dream of her... but either way, he was plagued by her memory every time he closed his eyes. As he laid back down, he met sleep with apprehension, knowing what visions his mind would see if he dozed off. He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand, thinking. This would all pass when he reached home, he thought, trying to provide himself with some false sense of comfort. Everything would be well when he reached Minas Tirith.

* * *

"Open the gates!" came the cry from the guards as Boromir rode nearer, on a horse which he had obtained from a stop in Osgiliath. Riding across the plains of Pelennor Fields, Boromir breathed a sigh of relief. Never had he been so happy to see his city before his eyes. He nudged the horse gently in the sides, speeding up his steady canter. He rode through the gates, and continued his ride through the different levels, until he reached the courtyard. He dismounted, and trudged wearily up the white marble steps to the citadel.

"Lord Boromir!" someone called him, with a tone of awe.

Boromir turned his head and saw Madril, his second-in-command. Madril was a middle aged man, a loyal servant of Gondor.

"We thought you had died!" the older man said to him.

Boromir shook his head. "Where is the Steward?" he asked. "I must speak with him."

Madril nodded. "He is in the throne room."

The two walked down the long marble hall together. Lord Denethor was sitting in his chair, at the front of the room. Boromir approached his father and bowed low.

"Rise, my son," said Denethor, and Boromir did so. "Your mission was unsuccessful," his father continued. It was not a question.

"We were ambushed, my lord," Boromir said.

"Yes," said the steward slowly. "That is what the men who returned said."

"There were survivors?"

"Yes. Nearly half of the men returned- beaten down and wounded." Denethor paused, and looked his son over thoroughly. Boromir looked like he had been through hell and back- he was dirty, tired looking, and pale. But he was alive. The steward smiled wryly at his firstborn. "I am happy that you made it home alive, my son. When you did not come back with the others, I feared the worst."

"Thank you, father."

"Go now, my son. I shall send for you later, when you have rested. We have a few matters to discuss."

Boromir bowed again, and left the throneroom, making for his chamber. On his way, he caught sight of his brother.

"Faramir!"

The younger man's head jerked up; he had been sitting in an enclosed alcove, reading.

"Boromir! You made it!"

His older brother nodded. "And it was not easy." He grinned to himself, remembering how difficult Marina had made everything, but the grin soon turned to pain...

Faramir noticed a distant look pass over his brother's face. "What is it?" he asked concernedly.

Boromir shook himself. "Nothing."

"You lie. I can tell. What happened?"

"Its nothing, Faramir. Just leave it." Boromir looked away. He didn't want to tell anyone about Marina just yet.

* * *

Later that evening, Boromir was summoned back to the throne room. One look at his father's face told him that he was about to hear something serious.

"My son," began Denethor, "I am growing old, and soon the role of Steward shall be passed on to you."

Boromir nodded, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

"As such," Denethor continued, "I have decided that it is time for you to think to your future. I have arranged for you to wed a lady of the court in the spring."

Boromir did a double take. "Me-marry....? Father- you can't be serious," he said. His head was suddenly spinning.

"I assure you, I am most serious about this, Boromir. It has all been arranged. The maid I've chosen is called Lady Arien, and from what I understand, she's quite charming..."

He tuned Denethor out, lost in his own thought.

Marriage.

Something he had absolutely no need or desire for. He knew of Lady Arien- her father was a member of the court. He had seen her a few times before, but they had never spoken.

"It is a good match, my son," said Denethor. "The two of you will announce your engagement a week from now. I have sent word to Prince Imrahil; your cousins will be arriving soon as well."

Boromir stared at his father with an unreadable expression. "How can you expect me to marry someone I have never even met?" he asked.

"It is your duty to your country, Boromir. I do not expect you to understand-"

"I understand perfectly, father. You would force me into a fruitless marriage to ensure that your line would continue. But think of the people you put in this position. If you must not think of me, then think of her. You would make this girl enter into a loveless marriage, father. Why not let us both make our own decisions?"

"I have made my choice, Boromir. You would do well to respect it. Now," he said, sitting back in his chair, "-go. And perhaps you shall return with a better attitude about this matter."

Boromir left, fuming. How could Denethor ask this of him? he questioned himself. He stalked off to an enclosed courtyard and began to pace.

A sudden movement from the shadows told him that he wasn't alone. From behind a large marble pillar, a woman emerged.

"Captain Boromir?" she asked, rather timidly.

When he saw her, he recognized her instantly. The woman before him was his future wife.

"Lady Arien," he said flatly.

"I suppose... Lord Denethor has...told you...?" she faltered, seeing the unmistakable look of anger on his face.

"Yes- he's made his wishes very clear."

She heard the negative connotation in his voice, and looked down at the ground, turning slightly red.

Realizing that he was probably not making a good impression on the woman he was supposed to marry, his face softened, and he said, "Forgive me. I have not had much time to take in the news."

She nodded, but said nothing.

In the dim torchlight, he took a good look at her. In his mind, he found himself sub-consciously comparing her to Marina. Her face was more round fragile than Marina's harsh, clearly defined features and high-cut cheekbones. She was shorter and fuller-figured, where Marina had been tall and lean and broad. Arien wore a fancy dress and had painted lips, making her look like a porcelean doll. By all standards, his wife-to-be was beautiful, but he couldn't help noticing the one thing she lacked. He remembered the ever-burning spark of life in Marina's eyes. A fiery light that had given her a look of wild, dangerous beauty.

Had he just admitted Marina was beautiful?

_Well why not?_ the voice inside his head said. _Its merely stating a fact_.

Arien sighed. "Well I suppose we should accept it," she said.

Boromir nodded deftly.

"If you'll excuse me, my lord. I will retire now."

He bowed shortly, and she left him alone. Her steps were slow and mincing compared to Marina's long, sure strides.

As he watched her go, Boromir admitted something to himself.

Arien would never be the one he wanted.

There was only one woman he thought about, a woman wandering somewhere in the wild......

* * *

Over the next few days, plans were made for Boromir and Arien's engagement banquet. The captain of Gondor had taken on a permanant expression of hostility and frustration. He despised what was happening to his life.

Elphir, Erchirion, Amrothos and Lothiriel arrived in Minas Tirith the following week, which cheered him slightly; but most of the time, he was most disagreeable.

Likewise, Arien was finding Boromir anything but amiable. She couldn't comprehend spending her life wedded to him, and wasn't sure she wanted to go through with the marriage. But, as her father constantly reminded her, it was out of her hands.

The evening of the celebration came- the members of the nobility were present at a banquet in honor of the Captain and his fiance. As he took his place at the table, next to Arien, he noticed how smug her father looked. Boromir had never liked the man, and knew he would loathe being related to the man. The announcement was made formally, there were toasts, and the meal was served. Though Boromir and Arien were seated next to one another, neither said a word. Across from her cousin, Lothiriel met Boromir's eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow. She observed the couple's stony silence, and couldn't help but think about how the marriage would kill Boromir. Lothiriel knew he wasn't one to be forced into something. And, from the way things were looking, it would not be a happy union. The "celebration" continued with music and dancing. Arien and Boromir danced together briefly, but each kept a formal distance between the other. When it was over, they stepped apart, almost relieved. Later that evening, Lothiriel asked Boromir about the marriage as they twirled around the floor.

"This match was not of your making, I suspect," she said.

Boromir shook his head. "Father arranged it. I had no say in the matter."

"Boromir," Lothiriel reasoned, "you must try to get out of it. How can you expect to live with someone who you do not even speak to?"

"I don't know..."

Looking closely at him, Lothiriel saw a flicker of something in her cousin's eyes.

"You're thinking of someone else?" she asked.

As quickly as it had come, the look disappeared, and he shook his head. "No," he lied. "No one else."

Lothiriel didn't look convinced, but luckily, the song ended and he bowed courteously and walked away.

Later that night, alone in his bedroom, Boromir stood on his balcony, overlooking Pelennor fields. He let out a deep breath, and raised his eyes, to the mountains across the way. Marina's homeland, he thought to himself. Lightning flashed against the orange sky, miles away. It was time to stop thinking about her, he thought to himself. He was marrying Arien.

Marina was a thing of the past.

No more than a memory.

A/N: hey you guys- whew, that chapter took a long time to write. (no thanks to the crapload of homework i had this weekend. teachers are relentless, i tell you!) anyhoo- if anyone- and i mean ANYONE- is reading this............ please please Please PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! so i can stop my pathetic begging.


	13. An Army Rides South

**I SERIOUSLY APOLOGIZE FOR THIS LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** (i will try to make them shorter in the future!)

(this one's gonna be short- but i have to do it. don't worry: there will be a fight in the VERY NEXT CHAPTER!!)

honest iago: wow. thank you sooo soooo sooooo much for your review! wow- i am so glad that you like it! -bows low- and i am EXTREMELY glad that it merits slightly above being just another romance. i'm also glad that you think that Marina is a STRONG OC, and not one of those infamous "Mary-Sues" that everyone always raises bloody hell about. i try to make her as realistic (and flawed) as possibly possible. just to let you know, i have NO intention WHATSOEVER of abondoning this story, so i will be putting updates up as often as i can. i have a fairly decent storyline that will extend (hopefully) for at least 20 chapters! (though i'm not saying anything for sure;P)

ONE more thing: i like looong reviews. rant as much as you want to, because nine times out of ten, ranting gets me thinking, and before you know it, i'll be cranking out a brilliant 20 page chapter. (okay, slight exaggeration... but it has been done before:) later dayz!!!

* * *

Chapter 13- An Army Rides South

(end of flashback. we're back in Dol Amroth, where things are about to get good for a change :))

Marina had been living in Dol Amroth for nearly a month, working as a servant in the house of Prince Imrahil. Her life had settled into a peaceful pattern- and she found herself liking it. When they had arrived a month previous, Marina had experienced wearing a dress for the first time. Lothiriel said that it would look extremely out of place for her to keep her male attire, and had set about making Marina into a presentable lady. Marina had been cleaned, dressed in a simple dark green gown, and her hair had been re-braided. Even Marina herself had been suprised at the result. When she saw her reflection, she saw that where there had once been a vicious warrior, there was now a pretty young woman. She did not forsake her battle-hungry nature, though. Nearly every week, she and Amrothos would spar with wooden training swords, in the palace armory. The youngest of Imrahil's sons was impressed by her skill with a blade. On their first match, she had beaten him easily- though she suspected that he had let her win. After that, however, their fights became more and more intense- and Marina often times came out the victor.

Today was no different.

With Lothiriel goading her on, Marina attacked Amrothos viciously with the wooden sword. She was lighter than he was, and quicker on her feet. Still, he defended well, blocking off her advances with finely-tuned skill. Marina faked a blow to his chest and swung low- Amrothos jumped, missing the blade by only an inch or so. However, his jump caused him to lose his balance, and as he wobbled, trying to keep his footing, Marina "slashed" him in the side. Realizing he was beaten (again), Amrothos clutched his side in mock agony. He fell to the floor and pretended to be dead, while Lothiriel and Marina laughed.

"Having fun, children?" came Erchirion's voice.

Looking up, Marina saw Lothiriel's brother leaning against the door frame. Erchirion was the most serious of the three brothers, strong and silent.

Amrothos rose to his feet, and scowled. "We aren't children," he said.

"You're acting like such," Erchirion shrugged.

A moment later, Elphir joined them. "Father needs us in the main hall, Erchirion," he said. "And you too, Amrothos," he added.

Seeing the serious expression on his brother's face, Amrothos asked, "What's wrong?"

Elphir shook his head. "The Haradrim, in the south. They're getting restless. Moving closer to Dol Amroth. One of our scouting parties was attacked on a peaceful mission a few days ago." He glanced at the two women, and shut his mouth.

The three brothers left then, leaving Marina and Lothiriel alone.

"What was that about?" Marina asked.

Lothiriel shuddered. "The Haradrim. The tribes of wild men from the southern lands. They have been threatening our civilization for many years. We dare not travel south to their lands, for fear of being killed. It has been said that war with them is inevitable."

The description registered in Marina's mind. The Haradrim were also in league with Sauron. She had seen some of their leaders in the camp before. Marina herself had some Haradrim blood in her.

Lothiriel continued. "Their attacks have become more frequent of late. My father has sent word to Lord Denethor of our adversaries- they are discussing what to do next. I fear, though, that a battle may be coming soon."

And then whose side would she be on? Marina wondered. Would she side with the Gondorians, or her own blood? She found the question extremely perplexing.

* * *

Later that night, under the cover of darkness, a messenger was sent out from Dol Amroth, bound for Minas Tirith, bearing word from Prince Imrahil to Lord Denethor. The Prince of Dol Amroth watched as the rider faded onto the horizon, rubbing his temples nervously. The coming days would bring on a greater storm; a fight larger than his people had seen in some years. Imrahil cast a glance up at the stars, sending up a silent prayer, in the hope that he was doing the right thing.

* * *

The sun rose slowly the following morning. From the window of her small bedroom, Marina watched as it rose up over the horizon; the light casting a deep, reddish glow on the cold morning sky. Red sun, thought Marina. By old fokelore, a red sun rising meant bloodshed.... As she dressed, she wondered if the omen could be true. With all the rumors of the Haradrim threatening the villages of men near the borders, there very well could be. She pushed the thought aside, however, when she met Lothiriel later that morning. They spent most of the morning in the young princess's chamber, studying Elvish. Since she had first heard it spoken, Marina had thought Elvish to be the most interesting language she had ever heard. It surpassed the rough sounds of the Black Language, which she had grown up hearing. She had been eager to learn, and Lothiriel was happy to teach her. Suddenly, they heard raised voices drifting up from the square below. Exchanging concerned looks, both women stood up and rushed to the window.

In the square, a small group of riders was gathered- weary and bloodstained.

"What happened?" someone asked loudly.

"Attack..." one of the men choked out. "Haradrim...." Then he fell silent. Dead.

Lothiriel took in a sharp breath, and pressed a hand to her mouth. Marina strained to hear what the men down below were saying. She saw Elphir ride out, on his horse, looking concerned.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Another one of the men said, "The village near our border was attacked today, by a large army of Haradrim men. They killed everyone, my Lord. We were the only ones who escaped."

Elphir looked worried, but swallowed his anxiety and said, "We will ride to the border!"

Horns sounded, and Dol Amroth's army saddled up, preparing for their ride.

* * *

The next few days passed slowly. With each day came word of another attack; the armies of Haradrim were moving closer and closer to the land of Belfalas.

Marina was working in the armory- sharpening swords and making arrows when she heard the horns blowing.

She set down the sword she had been working on with a subtle clang, and made her way down into the streets, stopping only when she overheard a conversation that made her heart turn over.

"...riding here from Gondor."

"Why?"

"Apparently they're anticipating a battle. Those men from the south, they want blood. Prince Imrahil sent a messenger to Steward Denethor for the army to ride here to help us."

Marina froze in her spot. The Gondorian army was here- in Dol Amroth. Did that mean that he...?

She took off again, hitching up her skirt to run faster, heart hammering against her chest. A few streets away from where she was, she heard hoofbeats against the cobblestone streets. She was close. And then, she saw them. She saw him.

For there he was, riding into the city on horseback; Boromir, captain of Gondor. Seeing him again stirred inside her an emotion that she could not describe- a cross between hope, anxiety, and excitement. She saw him turn his head, looking in her direction, and Marina's heart froze. Something made her draw back, into the safe shadows of a small building before he had time to look twice.

* * *

Boromir and his men rode through the streets of Dol Amroth, toward the palace. They had been traveling for nearly a week, and all were weary. He glanced half-heartedly at the people who were beginning to line the streets, watching the army ride in. His eyes fell on a small group of people, and he snapped to his senses, doing a double-take. He had sworn that he had just seen....

But it couldn't be.

Marina couldn't be here, in this city.

Yet it was her face that he had just seen, he was sure of it. Looking back, he saw that she was gone, making him question whether or not he was seeing things.

"Captain Boromir?" one of the soldiers asked lightly. It was then that he realized that he had stopped riding; he was standing in the middle of the street.

Shaking himself, he got the horse moving again, heading once more, toward the palace.

* * *

Later that evening, Marina made her way to a secluded courtyard that she often visited. She sat down on a stone bench, and put her head in her hands, frustrated and confused. She had been edgy the entire day, since the army had arrived. Even Lothiriel had commented upon her behavior. "What's wrong, Marina?" she had asked gently. "Something is bothering you- its obvious."

But Marina had just shook her head and remained silent.

In truth, she felt like screaming. Being in the same city as Boromir made her want to get on a horse and run as far away as she could. She hated the fact that he had such a strong hold over her. She resented the fact that he stirred up such conflicting emotions within her. She couldn't stand that she wanted so badly to hate him, but found she could not. In all her frustration, she picked up a stone, and threw it, hard as she could, against the wall.

"And I thought your aim was better," came a voice that she knew all too well.

Her heart froze in her chest; goosebumps covered her arms. She squeezed her eyes closed, and took a deep breath. Then, she turned slowly around, to face Boromir.

"So," he said slowly, softly, "The little warrior from Mordor is here in Dol Amroth."

She scowled at him, saying nothing.

He looked her over. She looked significantly different from the last time he had seen her. Her hair was slightly longer, and hung down her back, catching the light of the dying sun as it sunk lower in the sky; she was also wearing a simple but elegant dark blue gown. She was beautiful, he thought.

"I take it that no one knows who you really are?"

She shook her head.

"Why do you linger here?" he asked. "Why did you not go back to your land?" _Why do you stay here and torment me?_ he thought, but did not say it aloud.

She shrugged defiantly, looking away.

He moved closer, taking her chin gently in his hand and turning her face back towards him. "Has time stolen your speech, Marina?" he asked her softly, tracing the outline of her lips with his thumb.

She jerked away from him roughly, putting more distance between them.

"Go away," she said icily.

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "No."

She stood up straighter. "Fine then. If you won't leave, then I will." She made to leave, but realized that he was blocking the only entrance. When she tried to move around him, he reached out and took her by the arm.

"Not so fast," he said, pulling her back.

She met his eyes again. Pushing her face very close to his, she hissed, "Listen to me, _Captain_. I do _not _enjoy being in such a close proximity to you at _all_. Now unless you want me to _severely_ injure your pampered Gondorian _ass,_ you will let me go now and never seek me out again!"

He didn't let go.

"There you go again," he said. "Starting a fight. Are you like this to everyone, or am I just lucky?"

She gave him a fake smile, and he knew the answer.

"What have I done that has made you despise me?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye. He was suprised to see hers shining with what he knew were tears.

She glared back, dark eyes ablaze with anger, and, he noticed, heart turning, pain. "You gave me something to live for when I wanted to die," she answered.

He released her from his steel grip, staring at her.

Marina fled.

After she was gone, Boromir remained in the courtyard, pondering her response. What had he given her to live for? he wondered. And then, a realization hit him. What if she was talking about him? For all he knew, it could be true.

He wanted it to be true.

He had seen the tears in her eyes a moment ago- they were real. Her brief moment of weakness had plunged Boromir into the depths of her heart- the place she kept hidden from the rest of the world.

So, he thought to himself, his little warrior did have a weakness.

It was him.

* * *

A/N: hmmmm- and so the plot thickens..... Will Marina ever suck it up and admit that she is hopelessly in looove? REVIEW....... and i just may tell you. ;)wink wink ;)

well, i can't say i was EXTREMELY happy with the way this chapter turned out- i understand that it probably got a bit choppy, so let me know what you think!

one more thing: a million thanks to everyone who reviewed, at any time in this story. i can't believe i actually got to double digits on the review count!!!!! so.... now to thank everyone who makes me a happy author:

lordoftheringsfanficreader- thanks, as always!!!

Ilenya the fair- thanks for the review. hope this chapter didn't disappoint!

gondoriangurl- hey: you reviewed my harry potter story!!!! thanks a mill! also, thanx 4 the email too! keep those reviews comin'!

the unknown reviewer- thanks for your comments. i'm glad you think its good enough that i don't have to beg!!!

lorrese- glad to hear its "brill". yep- i hear ya on the homework thing. it especially sucks when you get homework on the weekend that just so happens to be the weekend of the homecoming dance. (but that's a loooong story) lets just say that thanks to getting home at midnight and having to get up the next day and do an english paper does not make for a fun-filled weekend.

so that's all i have to say about that- except for REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and keep reading: coming up next....... A BATTLE! YEAH! blood and guts! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! mmm- okay, ignore my psychotic-ness. as stated, i have had one hell of a long weekend. i would like nothing more in life than a good night's sleep, (and some good long reviews)


	14. Reflections

Chapter 14- Reflections

(sorry guys: the battle will take place NEXT chapter, not this one. Apologies to those who were anticipating some head-chopping fun, but i had an idea.... to get in some action.... of another sort. won't say no more there. anyway, the next one will be LONG- i swear on pain of death. savvy?)

* * *

Marina ran through the streets to the palace, heading for her room, in the servant's wing. Her vision was blurred by the tears that she had been holding in. She threw open her door, and flung herself onto her bed. The tears fell, hot and angry, drenching her pillow. Her body shook with uncontrollable anger. She was angry at herself, for allowing her emotions to get out of control. She was angry at Boromir also, for making her say too much, and for being able to make her cry. Never before had anyone affected her like this.

Even as a child, when she had been frightened by Orcs, or the Great Eye, or even her father's occasional abuse, she had kept the tears inside. Crying was pointless, it was a sign of weakness. There had been no place for it in Mordor, where survival depended on strength. And now, here she was- away from home, and sobbing over.... a man. Why? she thought furiously.

Why was she- a fierce soldier, who had witnessed horrors beyond description- running away from this.... this man from Gondor?

Inside, she knew. She had never been loved by anyone in her life- at least, not truly loved. The bond she shared with her family, while deep, was not what she'd define as love. And yet, in that one night in the forest, she had felt the emotion of which she had been deprived all of her years. It had sent a shock through her, the moment that their lips had touched -no matter how brief the kiss- a shock that had kindled in her a burning desire that she desperately wanted to quell, but was powerless to stop.

And then, as quickly as it had come, the feeling had been ripped away from her; the hope that had been lit inside of her had died with each step she had taken alone. It had been easy for him to let her go, she thought to herself. She was being foolish, to believe that he might have felt anything... he was, after all, engaged. The thought of his future wife brought on a new wave of chest-clenching heart ache. It was a physical pain that literally took hold of her, weakening her body and mind.

She was foolish for thinking that anyone could ever love her.

Letting her head fall onto the pillow defeatedly, she sent up a silent message of surrender. She wanted something that she knew she would never have.

You gave me something to live for when I wanted to die....she recalled her words from earlier. How perplexing this web was, she thought. He had given her something to live for- the chance at a new life, and yet, in a way, he had condemned her to a slow death. A death far worse than by a sword.

She closed her eyes, prepared to stay in her room until the army left again. She knew that if she saw him, it would only make matters worse.

Someone knocked softly on her door. Marina sat up, rigid, hoping that he had not followed her.

"Marina?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. The voice was undeniably female- and a moment later, Lothiriel stepped into the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked, worriedly, seeing Marina's tear-streaked face. She sat down on the corner of the bed and looked her friend in the eye.

Marina shook her head.

"You have been crying," Lothiriel said softly, her musical voice low and sorrowful.

"I'm fine."

Lothiriel gave her a look, but decided not to press the matter. "I spoke with my father today," she said gravely. "The men are riding to battle tomorrow. They will meet the Haradrim on the plains, south of here."

Marina nodded.

"My cousin, Boromir, is leading them," Lothiriel continued. With a sighm she said, "I fear for him. The battle will not be easy."

Marina shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his name.

Her friend noticed her gestures, and sighed. "Will you not tell me what is wrong?" she persisted, standing up.

Marina remained unresponsive. Deftly, Lothiriel turned to leave. As the wooden door clicked shut, Marina felt a new wave of tears surfacing. She buried her head in her pillow and surrendered to her heartache.

* * *

It was later in the evening when Marina finally left her bedchamber. She went off in the direction of the armory, preparing for the battle the next day. She would ride off, quietly, with the rest of the army the next morning. No one would care- she knew that. No one knew her well enough to be concerned for her safety- except for Lothiriel. But she knew of Marina's plans. Marina had told her the day before Boromir had arrived. "If there's a battle, I'm going," she had said resolutely. Lothiriel had encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Because of the lateness of the hour, Marina found the armory to be deserted, which suited her fine, as she was not eager to be around anyone. She was taking a few practice swings with a sword when she heard the sounds of movement in the next room. Warily, she moved closer to the door, which was opened a crack. She looked in and saw, to her great dismay, Boromir, twirling his own blade in mock-battle with thin air. Marina watched for a moment, pensively. For one so stocky, Boromir was amazingly light on his feet. He moved fluidly, motions never ceasing. She had underestimated his skill with a blade, she thought to herself, as she watched his flawless movements.

She didn't notice him stop and look in her direction, until she heard his laugh.

"A warrior _and_ a spy," he said lightly. "What other hidden talents do you posess?"

She jumped in surprise, and was about to make a quick escape, when he pushed the door open. She scowled at him.

He sheathed his sword, and looked at her. "What are you doing down here this late?"

"Not that its any of your business," she spat.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't play this game with me. You're acting like a child, Marina."

She folded her arms across her chest.

"Were you planning to ride with us tomorrow?" he asked.

"Maybe."

He threw his hands up in frustration. "What do I have to do to get an answer from you, woman?" he asked.

She shrugged defiantly.

A grin suddenly spread over Boromir's face. He had an idea; something he knew Marina wouldn't turn down.

"I say we duel. If I win, you will answer my questions honestly. If you win, I will honor your wishes and never come near you again, if that is what you truly want."

Marina turned his offer over in her mind. She wasn't one to turn down a duel- and she knew that doing so now would give Boromir license to hold it over her for the rest of her life. She was fairly confident that she could win, and was well aware of what that would mean...

"Very well," she responded. "I accept your challenge." She held out her hand.

He looked mildly surprised, but shook her hand nonetheless. They moved into the practice room, and Marina strapped on her armor and took a few experimental swings with her blade. When she finally faced Boromir, she held a cool, confident look.

"Are you sure you want to bring this humiliation upon yourself, Captain?"

He smiled at the trace of her fiery humor. He brought his blade out in a ready-stance. She began to counter, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

He watched her movements with an unblinking eye. Then, without warning, she lunged- he brought his blade down just in time to deflect a blow to his leg. He spun out, striking with a backhand swing. She blocked, meeting his eyes as she did so. Her dark eyes were ablaze with excitement and thrill as the battle ensued.

Marina was in her element.

This was what she had been raised to do, this was her life, and she loved it. She jumped high when Boromir swung his blade low, and started another assault on the Gondorian. Together, they each avoided the other's attacks, moving as if in a complexly choreographed dance. Marina swung her blade up, and Boromir met it, locking their swords together for a moment.

"You're holding back," he commented, though panting slightly.

"Maybe."

"Don't."

Marina didn't. From then on, she became deadlier than ever. As he fought to defend himself, he saw what a cunning warrior she really was. She was good in a quick-cut battle, but her man-to-man skills were exceptional.

But he had been trained too. He quickly identified her weak points (though few) and adjusted his strategy. It seemed to be working- as the minutes wore on, he felt her working harder to block him. He himself was beginning to tire, though, and didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep this up.

Marina dealt him one particularly hard blow, and the side of her blade nicked the side of his hand.

"Blast!" he muttered, but kept going. The force of Marina's blow had caused her to step off balance. Boromir struck quickly- using her few seconds of uncertainty to break her. With a final hit, he knocked the blade from her hands, and pressed his own to her chest. Her fallen sword hit the ground with a defeated clang.

She looked up at him with a mixed look of surprise and shock.

He smirked and dropped his sword victoriously. On closer investigation, he saw that the hilt was covered with blood, and turned his attention to the cut on his hand. It stung a little, but was bleeding profusely.

Marina inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize-"

"Don't worry," said Boromir. "It's fine. Just a cut."

"Let me..." she said, moving closer to look at it. "That'll get infected if you don't do anything about it," she said. "Here..."

She tore a strip of cloth off of the seam of her thin cloak and began to wrap the injured hand. She worked slowly, making sure to make it tight.

"So," he said, as they sat on the floor, next to each other. "I won the duel, so you have to answer my questions."

He saw an angry look flicker across her face. "Maybe."

"We shook on it."

"Fine," she said. "What do you want to know?"

"Why did you stay here in Gondor? Why did you not go back to Mordor?"

She let out a deep breath. "I didn't go back because I wanted to see the rest of the earth. I wanted to see how other humans lived; what things were like beyond the mountains and the fire. And... I wanted to find out what I'm really fighting for. I know I said I swore allegiance to Mordor, but I have been questioning that allegiance since I came here. All I have- had- in Mordor was the chance to fight. The chance to kill as many enemies as I could, without dying myself. But it was fruitless. I wasn't fighting for anything, really. But your people... they fight for a cause that means something. They fight for peace and good. It seems a much better cause than just senseless killing."

She continued wrapping the cloth around his hand.

"Next question. Were you planning to fight tomorrow?"

She nodded simply.

"Wouldn't your people consider you a traitor?'

"I suppose. For fighting those aiding Sauron. But my people think I'm dead. Besides, no one really cared for me in that land. I was just another body walking around, another sword to be used in battle."

Boromir noticed the tightness in her voice, hinting that she was holding something back.

"One more thing," he said. "Why have you been avoiding me these last days? Why do you act as though I've done something to hurt you?"

Marina bit her lip. This conversation was heading exactly where she did NOT want to go.

Boromir looked at her expectantly. If looks could kill, Marina thought that she would be dead by now. She was nearly finished wrapping his hand. Maybe she could make a quick exit...

"Is it because of what happened that night in the forest?" he asked tentatively.

She stood up sharply, finished. "Its nothing," she said shortly.

He stood up too. "Liar."

"So what if I am?" she challenged. "Why do you waste your time with me then? Besides," she added. "We might not even live through tomorrow."

"Do you even care if you live or die, Marina?" he asked her suddenly.

She didn't meet his eyes. "My life matters little," she responded.

"_'My life matters little'_?" he asked in disbelief. "Listen, woman. I accept that you want to fight, but if you're just going for....for suicide, then I swear on my life that I will stop you. I won't sit back and let you do something reckless with your life." He stopped, recalling what she had said earlier that day. "I have one more question," he said.

"Well, that's what you said five minutes ago," said Marina flatly.

He ignored her comment. "What did you mean this afternoon when you said that I had given you something to live for? What exactly were you talking about?"

Marina's face paled. She turned and made to leave, but he grabbed her by the arm, and backed her against the wall.

"Let go," she said firmly.

"You haven't told me the truth yet."

"You know," she said cooly. "I don't think your fiancé would appreciate you being this close to another woman."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

"Well then, I guess you don't know any better. Because I am not jealous in the slightest of the unfortunate woman who will be forced to marry you. I just don't think she'd find this situation appropriate."

"Well she isn't here, is she?" He moved closer to her. "Listen to me, Marina. I don't care about my supposed marriage, and I don't care about what Arien would 'think' about this. But we're riding to battle tomorrow, maybe even to death, and all I'm thinking is that there's no way I'm going to die without kissing you one more time."

Without further delay, he leaned down and kissed her soundly, leaving no room for her protests.

* * *

A/N: yay! smoochies!! (tee hee). was that too 'cliché'? if it was, sorry. i couldn't resist. let me know what you all think!


	15. Battle Plains

(and now.... the battle you've all been waiting for!! Enjoy, and REVIEW)

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Chapter 15- Battle Plains

Later that night, in his own bedroom, Boromir thought about what had happened earlier. After the kiss, he had left the room before Marina had had a chance to say- or do- anything. He had left her standing, shocked, in the practice room. He knew he had been forward. He knew that Marina probably hated him more than ever now.

But he also knew that he was desperately in love with the woman.

He didn't try to figure out how it had happened- he accepted it for what it was. All he knew was that his life had changed forever the morning his company had ambushed the Mordorian soldiers.

He looked out his window wearily, out into the Bay of Belfalas. The sound of the waves hitting the beaches below was soothing. It was the calm before the storm that tomorrow would surely bring. He had met the Haradrim in battle only once before, and the fight had not been an easy victory. It had lasted through the day, and well past twilight, until the men from the south had finally retreated. Many lives had been lost. Many of his friends had perished.

He had been young- perhaps only fifteen or sixteen, the army's second in-command. It had been his first real battle, and he remembered the fear that had struck him while watching the Haradrim armies advance, all the while knowing that soon, they would strike. The inevitable realization of the pain and death that would come from the battle had frightened Boromir.

He shuddered as another memory surfaced- one which he had prayed he would be able to forget.

It was during the fight against the Haradrim- around midday. He had been in the thick of the brawl, when he had seen his best friend, Althir, jumped by two Haradrim soldiers. He had been close- he could have saved him if he had tried, but his fear had bested him. He had fled. Althir's face, contorted in pain as he lay dying, would haunt Boromir forever.

* * *

Marina was still in the armory, several hours later, still in a state of confusion. Boromir had left without giving her a chance to speak; he had left her in a state of shock. Inside, she was fuming. Why did he always have to do that? she wondered angrily. Why did he always find her when she was at her weakest, then leave her, alone and confused. It would not happen again, she vowed. For beneath her anger, there was also fear.

She did not want to love him.

She was _afraid_ to love him.

Afraid of ceasing to be the heartless warrior that the prided herself on being, and becoming instead some.... damsel in distress, dependent and weak.

No, she thought firmly, love had no place in her life.

With a sigh, she picked up two thin blades, and twirled them, one in each hand. She sheathed them, and strapped them to her back, incase her other sword was lost. She put daggers in both of her boots, as a final defense for herself, and adjusted her armor. It was in the early hours of the morning, and she was prepared for whatever the day would bring.

As the sun began to cast a dim, pink glow over the land, Marina made her way to the stable. A few of the other soldiers were there already, tacking up their own horses. No one paid her any mind. Before long, they were ready to ride. In her armor, Marina was indistinguishable from her fellow male riders. Whenever she saw Boromir, she turned her head, praying he wouldn't see.

He didn't; or at least, he didn't say anything to her. They rode slowly to the city gates, past the small groups of people lining the streets, observing their departure.

When the army reached the plains outside the city, they sped up to a moderate canter. They would have to reach the battle plains with enough strength left for a fight. As the sun climbed higher, the army's scouts were spotted, galloping back toward the other soldiers.

"We've spotted them, my lord," one of them said to Boromir. "The Haradrim are fording the river Harnen, just over this next hill." Boromir nodded, and gave a signal for a charge as they climbed the hill. Toward the middle of the riders, Marina heard the cavalry horns sound, and inhaled a shaky breath as she thought about what she had been taught during her training in Mordor. _Show no mercy, for no mercy will be shown upon you. Kill swiftly, do not look back_. She repeated those words in her mind, like a mantra. It calmed her slightly, but her hands still shook as she gripped the reins harder with one hand, and removed her sword from its scabbard with the other. At the head of the soldiers, Boromir looked on the scene below him. The Harad armies were great in number, but so was his own. The southerners, however, had a significant advantage- as Boromir counted nearly five oliphants, each bearing at least twenty men. The beasts would be nearly indestructable, he knew.

"Prepare to charge," he said to his second-in-command. A second later, the Gondorian army spilled over the crest of the hill, like a dam being broken loose. They galloped full speed toward the other army, yelling, chanting, summoning every power to aide them. Marina watched, pensively, as with each step of her horse, the two armies grew closer. She braced herself for the moment when the two would meet. It came with the sound of crashing swords and the sounds of men's yells. Out of the corner of her eye, Marina saw some of the men fall, but she rode on, slashing left and right, mercilessly and without hesitation. She jerked the reins to the left to avoid a volley of arrows that were heading her direction. She muttered several swear words under her breath as she felt one of them hit her horse. Her ride, however, was resilient, and carried her on, not faltering. Still, she knew that he would soon be useless to her. Just ahead of her, Marina saw a group of Haradrim coming towards her, swords raised. With a savage-like yell, she charged at them full speed. There was a moment of confusion, and then she felt herself being dislodged from her saddle, the reins ripped from her grasp. She hit the ground with a firm thud. When she sat up, she saw five more Haradrim soldiers coming at her.

A short ways away from where Marina was, Boromir, still on horseback, found himself riding beneath one of the massive oliphants. The beasts had hundreds of arrows in them, yet they still walked as if unaffected. _Not to mention they smell bad_, thought Boromir as he slashed the legs of the enormous animal with his sword. The animal began to wobble, and Boromir kicked his horse in the sides, praying to the Valar that he would get out from under it in time. He just made it. Thinking that the encounter had been too close for comfort, he headed toward the next one, rallying two other rider to help him. Together, the Gondorians took down two more of the beasts. They fell slowly, almost gracefully, as if making a dramatic exit. The rest of the srmy cheered victoriously. It was short-lived, however, for the Haradrim answered with a vicious volley of arrows. One of the men Boromir had been riding with fell with a strangled cry, and looking to his left, he saw several more hit the ground. The battle was mostly being fought man-to-man now, as most of the men had lost their horses. Boromir charged at a crowd of soldiers, taking care not to hit any of his own men. He felt his blade connecting with the Haradrim men's flesh, as they wore little armor. What happened next, he could not avoid. When he looked forward, he saw one of his enemies charging at him, an axe raised. It hit his horse with a sickening sound. Thinking quickly, Boromir jumped off the broken mare and met the other man's axe with his sword. His adversary took deadly swipes, most of which missed Boromir by mere inches. With his left hand, Boromir took out a small knife from his belt, and threw it at the Harad man as accurately as he could. It hit him in the chest, and he dropped the axe. Boromir took the opprotunity to thrust his blade into the man's abdomen, before moving on, leaving him for dead. The next man he came upon he brought down quickly, slashing him low, across the knees. He then became engaged in a fierce struggle with a particularly menacing-looking Harad soldier. He jumped out of the way as the soldier thrust his blade at what would have been his stomach, before moving in for the kill. The other man, however, anticipated his move, and kicked out with his foot, hitting Boromir squarely in the chest, sending him back. He lost his balance and fell, head connecting with a sharp rock on the ground. He forced himself back off the ground. The world was spinning as a shockwave of pain exploded in the back of his head. He gripped his sword tightly, trying as hard as he could to defend himself, until, finally, he slashed the man in the arm. His stomach lurched as he saw the dislodged arm go flying through the air.

* * *

Marina looked around desperately for her sword as the Haradrim soldiers came closer. It had flown out of her hands when she had been thrown off the horse.

But they were too close.

Thinking quickly, she pulled out the two thinner blades that she had carried. She struck down the first one easily and turned her attention to the others, body twisting and spinning, blocking and striking almost simultaneously. Overall, she found two blades to be much more convenient than just one. She used one blade to block her assailant's attack, and the other to chop off his head, which hit the ground with a satisfying thud. Something in her mind told her to turn around, and when she did, she saw another Haradrim, sword raised, ready to kill her. In the blink of an eye, she had knocked his sword from his hand, and punched him squarely in the jaw, knocking him back.

"No _way_ will I die that easily," she said firmly, slitting his throat, hitting him in the artery so that his blood came spurting out in a bright red, lukewarm jet.

She charged into a pack of Haradrim that were currently being held off by two Gondorians. When she began her attack, she saw several of them fall.

What she didn't see was another Harad man, sword raised, coming up behind her.

* * *

Boromir pulled his sword out of an enemy's stomach, letting the victim slump to the ground. He turned toward the thick of the battle, when he saw her. She was busy fighting a pack of Haradrim, but behind her... Boromir's heart froze. There was another soldier- that Marina was unaware of- moving towards her, ready to stab her in the back.

"MARINA!" he yelled as loud as he could, but she didn't hear him over the din of the battle.

He began to run towards her, frantically, but was stopped by an axe-wielding Harad man. Boromir couldn't think- he acted on pure instinct, and the man fell. He turned back to look at Marina, and his heart plummeted. Almost in slow motion, he saw the Haradrim's blade slash Marina across the back. He saw her face contort in pain as she turned to face her assailant. She swung her sword weakly, trying to fend him off, but he slashed her again in the arm. Her involuntary scream pierced the air.

Boromir's mind was back on the other battle with the Haradrim. He hadn't saved Althir. Fear had gotten the best of him. But there was one thing stronger than fear. Love.

He hadn't saved Althir. But he _would_ save Marina.

He raised his sword and ran, harder and faster than he ever had before, throwing himself infront of the soldier as he was about to deliver a killing blow. The Harad man growled, his eyes, rimmed with black warpaint, glaring menacingly. Boromir met his eyes defiantly, ready to chop the bastard to pieces, to tear him limb from limb. He threw all his strength behind his blade as he launched himself toward the larger soldier. The crash of their blades rang out among the other sounds of battle.

As he held the man off, he heard Marina groan in pain and hit the ground.

_Hold on, Marina_, he thought desperately. _Don't give in... not yet_. His opponent faked a blow to Boromir's leg, and then, with one swift motion, knocked him back with a punch to the jaw. The Gondorian's blade flew out of his hand and the world started spinning; he landed next to Marina. She was lying motionless, displaying no signs of life. _No_,he thought. _Please don't be gone. _He saw the Harad soldier coming toward him again, this time for the kill. Still dazed, Boromir took one of the blades from her hand and swung it wildly at the man when he came near. The man's pathetic roar of pain told him that he hadn't missed.

Boromir forced himself off the ground, wiping blood off of his lips. He wanted to stay with Marina, but knew that as commander of the army, he had to fight with his men, until the end. Much as he wanted to get her as far away from danger as possible, he knew he had to leave her where she was.

Walking away from her was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Fortunately, the battle had moved slightly away from where Marina was lying, and he knew that staying where she was might be the safest thing for her at the moment. Taking one last look at her, he moved off in the direction of the fighting.

* * *

Another tireless hour of battle passed until the Gondorians finally began to drive the Haradrim back toward the river. The sun was beginning to sink lower in the Western sky as finally, the southerners sounded a retreat, and their battle lines began to recede, back over the river, to their own lands.

The sounds of clanging swords and battle cries were drowned out by sounds of victory, as the men of Gondor celebrated their victory. But victory came at a high price. As he trudged wearily over the battlefield, Boromir looked at all of the dead, the slain, the mortally wounded. His eyes caught sight of a young soldier, lying on the ground, a long knife lodged in his stomach. He looked frightened, and in pain. Boromir knelt down next to him.

The soldier's breathing was growing steadily labored, Boromir could see that his time was nearly gone.

"The battle..." he whispered hoarsely. "Did we... did we win?"

Boromir nodded slowly. "Yes lad. Gondor has claimed another victory."

A slow, pained smile crept across the boy's face. "Then I shall not die in vain," he said.

"No," said Boromir. "You fought bravely, son. We owe you our thanks."

The soldier nodded weakly, and his eyes closed for the final time.

"Rest in peace, soldier," said Boromir quietly, placing the boy's sword in his hand. He stood up, looking down at the boy's face. So young, he thought. The soldier couldn't be older than twenty, he thought. And yet he had such courage. He had been so willing to serve his country, to die for what he believed in. How many more, Boromir wondered. How many more young men like that would see their lives end so quickly? He walked slowly over the other bodies, looking into the faces of men far braver than him.

"Captain Boromir!" someone called him. One of the officers from Dol Amroth rode up, still on horseback. He looked at his captain questioningly.

"Tend to the wounded. If they need Healers, send a party back to Dol Amroth. Tell the rest of the men to gather wood and brush. We will burn the dead."

The officer nodded, and rode off.

Boromir began to look around for Marina. He hadn't seen her yet, and sped up, praying that she was still alive. His search became more and more frantic by the minute. Thoughts were racing through his mind- seeing her figure lying on the ground, still and cold. _No,_ he mentally screamed. _She is NOT dead. She won't die. I can save her_.

But where was she?

He began to look around wildly.

He hadn't seen how far away from her he had ended up after he had left her there- for all he knew, she could be on the other side of the plain.

Then, he saw her. Lying exactly as he had left her, amid a pile of fallen Harad soldiers. There was also a great amount of blood.

His heart stopped as he walked over, slowly, not sure if he wanted to know the truth.

His hands were shaking as he knelt down beside her.

Her arm was bleeding freely, and when he moved her body slightly, he saw a tear in her shirt where she had been gashed in the back. As he moved her, she groaned in pain, very softly. He let out a breath. She was still responsive.

"Marina," he said, pressing a hand to her forehead.

She didn't respond.

He watched helplessly as her breathing became shallower. He needed to get her out of there. She needed medicine- her condition was beyond his aide.

But he couldn't leave. He was in charge- he couldn't abandon his men.

He heard footsteps approaching him, and a moment later, Elphir appeared at his side. He recognized Marina as the girl who his sister had found in the wild, the one who had beaten Amrothos in their duels. He saw his cousin's shaken expression, the careful way he tended the girl, wrapping the wound on her arm.

But she was still losing blood, and he could see that Boromir wanted to get her to safety.

"I need to get her out of here, Elphir," Boromir said. "If I don't, she could die."

Elphir nodded calmly. "I will take command of the army, Boromir. Take her and return to Dol Amroth. She is a friend of Lothiriel's, and I would not like to see her perish."

Boromir nodded in thanks.

Elphir whistled, and his horse trotted over. He helped his cousin set the unconscious woman gently on the saddle. Boromir mounted behind her, holding her close.

Without another word, he set off toward Dol Amroth.

* * *

just a note: that drabble about Boromir's past was strictly hypothetical. I made it up to give the story a bit more depth. so.... love it? hate it? write me a NICE LONG REVIEW and let me know..... or just screw the 'long review' thing and drop me a line. whatever's good for you. (very simple- just press that little blue button and make me a happy author:)


	16. Whispered Promises

note the paragraphs in italics in this chapter denote Marina's dreams. so read, enjoy, and REVIEW!!

Chapter 16- Whispered Promises

Boromir rode hard for Dol Amroth, knowing that each moment that passed was another minute that brought Marina closer to death. When he saw the towers of the palace appear on the horizon, he breathed a sigh of relief, which seemed to give both he and the horse strength to carry on to the city gates. He rode through the cobblestone streets, passing the people on the roadside, ignoring the questioning looks being shot in his direction. When he reached the palace, Lothiriel ran out to greet him, her white gown billowing out behind her.

"What happened?" she asked her cousin. "Where is the rest of the army?" she said worriedly, thinking of her three brothers, who had also gone to battle.

"They're still out at the plains," he responded. "Marina-" his voice caught in his throat. "Marina was wounded. I had to bring her... she wouldn't have lasted."

Lothiriel gave him a strange look. "How do you-"

"I'll explain everything later, Lothiriel. Just help me get her to the infirmary."

Boromir lifted Marina down from the horse and walked toward the palace, cradling her in his arms. Lothiriel walked with them to the hospital wing. The Healers set Marina on a small bed, and examined her wounds. Boromir wanted to stay, but the Healers shooed him out, shutting the door behind him. He was left alone in the stone hallway.

But not for long.

"Explain." said Lothiriel plainly when she saw him.

"What?"

"Tell me how you know Marina. You two have met before. I want to know where. Was it in Minas Tirith? She said she lived there before coming here."

"Yes," Boromir fibbed quickly, praying that whatever he was about to say would match with whatever Marina had told her. "I met her one day... a few months ago."

"You are in love with her?"

"I-er...well," Boromir faltered.

His cousin smiled. "I thought so. I saw the way you look at her. Good. So you can tell your father that there's no need for his arranged marriage."

Boromir looked uncomfortable. "I- uh- wouldn't count on that...she- well, she doesn't...er feel that way about...me."

"Oh, really?"

He nodded.

"I wouldn't count on that," said Lothiriel coyly. "I mean, have you asked her?"

He shook his head. "No. And I may never get the chance now," he said gravely.

Lothiriel's face sobered. "Have faith, Boromir," she said, turning to leave.

After she was gone, Boromir sat down on a wrought-iron bench outside the infirmary, not planning to move until he heard something about Marina's condition. Weary though he was, he was determined to be awake if-when- she came to. She had to survive, he thought. She had to survive, so that he could admit what an idiot he had been and tell her how he felt for her.

Boromir had never thought himself a romantic. He had never expected to fall truly in love with anyone. There had been a time when his greatest joy and pleasure came from arriving home to the sound of victory, after yet another battle. But that had all changed.

And now, he thought bitterly, he might lose Marina... forever. He put his head in his hands. As the minutes passed into hours and still no word on Marina's condition, Boromir began to despair. Time, he thought, was evil. Time was killing not one but two souls- resigning them to a slow, twisted, agonizing death. And all the while, time was laughing at them from its high place, beyond human reach, out of human sight.

Time was altogether inhuman.

Night fell- he heard the rest of the army return shortly before sunset, but stayed outside Marina's room. Finally, when the moonlight was beginning to cast its pale glow down the stone hallways, the door opened, and the chief Healer stepped out. She was an old woman, wrinkled and small, but for her small stature, she harbored an air of wisdom that could come only from her age.

Boromir stood up anxiously. "How is she?" he asked in a low voice.

"She will survive, I think. If she does not contract the fever."

The captain of Gondor heaved a sigh of relief. "Can I see her?"

"Yes, yes. But I would like a word with you first." She pulled the door closed, and gestured to Boromir to follow her.

They walked a short distance from the infirmary before she spoke. "How much do you know about this girl?" she asked. "Why did you bring her from the battlefield yourself? Why do you wait outside her chambers, looking as if your life depends on her survival?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Answer my question, my Lord, and I will answer yours."

"I brought her from the field because I happen to care for her. I did not want her to ride with us, but she insisted."

"And what of her background? Where did she come from?" the Healer asked, looking at him in a way that he found unsettling, like she knew something.

He shrugged.

"But you do know, Lord Boromir. You know as well as I that she had sworn herself to the Black Land."

Boromir stopped walking. He whirled round to face the old woman. "How did you find that out?" he hissed, glancing around to make sure they hadn't been followed.

"She has the mark of Mordor. On her arm. I have seen it before, many years ago. They brand all of their soldiers in that way."

Boromir's expression was now that of panic. "Who else knows?" he asked frantically. "The other Healers- did they see-?"

The old woman shook her head. "They do not know her secret. I wrapped the mark in a bandage, so that no one will glimpse it by accident. I will reveal it only if you wish it."

He shook his head. "Keep it secret," he said. "I don't want to risk what might happen if anyone were to find out."

The Healer nodded. "I sensed good will in her. She may not be Sauron's servant fully."

"Thank you," Boromir whispered.

The old woman gave him a wry smile. "Now," she said, "I imagine you want to see her."

He nodded.

"Mind you- her body sleeps now. I cannot say for sure when she will wake up. But rest of the body does not always mean rest of the mind. Talk to her. She will hear you."

The two walked back down the hall to Marina's room. The old Healer opened the door with her gnarled hands, and bowed her head to Boromir, then left. When she had gone, he walked slowly to Marina's bedside, pulling the wooden door closed behind him.

She was lying under a white blanket, black hair loose and spreading over the pillow. Her face was pale- paler than usual, save for the spots where bruises were beginning to appear, and a thin cut on her cheek. How peaceful she looked, he thought. Amazing how such a fiery, sarcastic, vicious warrior could come out of one who appeared so angelic. Subconsciously, he reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. "Please make it through this, Marina," he murmured lowly.

Her head turned slightly, and she made a soft, pained sound but remained unconscious.

* * *

_"Wake up child. Open your eyes."_

_The sound of her mother's voice roused Marina from her slumber. "Mother?" she asked, eyes still closed. "Is that you?"_

"_Wake up, young one."_

_Obediently, she did so. There was light, so much light. Orange tongues of fire, burning all around her. "Where am I?"_

"_You are at a divide in your life."_

"_What does that mean? Where are you?"_

"_I am here," her mother said._

"_Why can't I see you? I- I can't see anything."_

"_Sight is not important, Marina."_

"_Why are you here?"  
"I've come to-"_

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, after the Healers had shooed him out of the room, Boromir paced pensively in his chamber. It was useless to sleep- when he slept, his mind became clouded with terrible visions of the battle; of suffering and death.

He jumped when he heard the urgent knock on his door.

He opened it to find Lothiriel, looking grave.

His face paled. "What is it?" he asked.

She met his eyes and said the words he had feared. "It's Marina."

"She- she's not....she can't be...."  
"She's not dead. But she's come down with a fever. The Healers don't think she has much time left."

"I've got to go to her," he said.

His cousin nodded, and stepped aside, letting him pass.

* * *

"-_ask you why you left us." _

"_I was captured, Mother."_

"_You are not a prisoner now. Instead you chose to fight as one of them."_

"_I am not one of them, Mother- you must believe me!"  
"How can I believe you, my daughter? You have betrayed us, your people."_

"_No."_

"_Then prove it to us, Marina. Come home to us. Come home......... home..... home....."_

* * *

When Boromir arrived at Marina's room in the hospital wing, he found four Healers by her bedside.

"What happened?" he asked anxiously.

"Fever, my Lord," said one of the older male Healers. "It is as we feared."

Boromir's hands were shaking. He looked over and saw the old woman he had spoken to earlier, sitting on the side of the bed. She made eye contact with him.

He moved closer to where she sat. "Will she live?" he asked.

The old woman closed her eyes. "Hard to say now," she responded, looking down at her patient as a shiver of cold convulsed through Marina's body.

* * *

_Home.... home..... home. The word echoed in her mind. Home to her family. But how, Marina thought. _

_The answer came in the sound of her mother's voice. "Just let go.... let go...... and everything will be fine....."_

_Another voice came. "Come on, Marina. Fight this." That voice was different. It was a warm voice, a loving voice. One she knew, telling her to hold on. Marina began to shiver, body weakening. She couldn't hold on anymore. It was time to go._

"_Come home with us, Marina. Come home.... come home...." _

* * *

Boromir sat by Marina's side helplessly.

About an hour had gone by since he had come into the infirmary again, and she still shook with fever, like she had in the forest. Most of the Healers had left, whether to find more medicine or tend to other patients. Boromir held her hand gently- her skin was burning up.

"Come on, Marina," he whispered. "Fight this."

"She is fighting her mind," came a small voice from the door. The old woman had returned.

"What do you mean?" Boromir asked, turning to face her.

"The dreams. She is fighting something that no one else can see."

"I don't understand."

"The Dark Lord is in her mind."

"Sauron?"

"Yes. He is causing this. He knows all- he sees all. He knows someone has betrayed him. Someone who had sworn loyalty, and had given it up. He will not let the betrayer be the victor. He preys on her when she is at her weakest. And soon, he will break her."

"How do you know of this?"

The Healer did not answer. All she said was, "Only time will tell if your lass is strong enough."

And with that, she was gone.

Boromir shivered. The old Healer frightened him. Made him uneasy. She gave off the air of knowing something more than what she said. He turned his gaze back to Marina.

Was Sauron in her mind right now?

As the time passed, Boromir slowly began to despair.

* * *

_"Just let go, Marina. Just let yourself fall."_

"_I don't want to let go," Marina thought weakly. _

"_Please, Marina," her mother's voice pleaded. "We miss you here. You have brought much pain upon our family. Just let go, and we can all be together again." _

_Marina felt herself starting to slip, farther and farther down. _

"_That's it, Marina. Just fall."_

_"Ereidain?-"_

* * *

Morning dawned, and Marina's condition steadily worsened. When they returned to check on her, the Healers insisted that Boromir leave. He left reluctantly, heart heavy as he headed back to his chamber. He laid down on his bed, intending to rest his eyes for a moment, but before long, had fallen into a deep slumber.

* * *

_"Yes, Marina. Its me. Trust me, sister. Just let yourself fall and come home to us. Don't let anything hold you back."_

"_But what if I choose to stay?"_

"_Then you betray us all. Do you want that?"_

"_No, brother."_

"_Then come... what else do you have to live for?"_

* * *

Marina stirred in her sleep. "No..." she mumbled.

The old woman Healer, who had come back into the room, looked at the sleeping woman in astonishment.

She was fighting it- and with luck, she just might win.

* * *

_Marina thought over her brother's words. "You sound as if I'll die."_

"_Perhaps," said Ereidain. "But does it matter? Wouldn't it be worth it to not care anymore?"_

"_I will not freely choose death!" Marina retorted._

"_Fool!" Ereidain's voice deepened, sounding quite unlike him. "You must let go! It is time to die! You have betrayed the Dark Lord. Now you will pay........"_

_A whisper. Her mother's voice again, against the roar of the other voice. "Come home.... come home.... come home.... come home...."_

_An eye...._

* * *

Marina's breathing was growing ragged. Her forehead was covered with beads of sweat, and her hands were closed tightly around the blanket that covered her. The Healer pressed a cool cloth to Marina's forehead and waited.

* * *

_The eye stared at Marina with its lidless glare. _

_She opened her mouth to scream, but heard no sound come out. All she heard was a chorus of "come home.... come home.... come home..." _

_Then, Ereidain's voice sounded again. "Being together would destroy you both, Marina. You know of whom I speak. They will find out who you are. They will kill you. You have nothing else to live for. End it. NOW!"_

_Marina felt the ground give way. _

_"No!" she shouted, reaching out for anything to stop her from falling into the dark abyss beneath her._

_She saw the eye... watching her. She felt herself drop; the world went dark...................._

* * *

"Marina? Marina?!"

Light streamed in through the window as Marina opened her eyes groggily.

She saw Lothiriel standing over her anxiously. When her eyes opened, Marina saw her friend's face instantaneously relax.

"Thank the Valar!" Lothiriel cried. "We all thought you were...." she didn't finish.

"I know," said Marina, still dazed.

"Boromir was worried sick about you," Lothiriel said. "He'll probably be here soon, as soon as he hears you've come to."

Marina's face paled. "No!" she said shortly. "I- I don't want to see him."

Lothiriel raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do you not know that he cares deeply for you?"

"Did he tell you that?" Marina snapped.

"Well, no- er yes. He did."

Marina closed her eyes. "I don't want to see him," she said quietly.

Lothiriel nodded. "I won't tell him you've awakened, then. But please talk to him, Marina."

The door opened, and the old woman came in. "Awake at last?" she said to Marina. To Lothiriel, she said, "Might I speak with the lass alone, my Lady?"

The princess gave Marina one last look, and left the room.

The Healer sat down on the side of Marina's bed. "How are you feeling, child?"

"Strange," Marina responded.

The Healer nodded knowingly. "You have had a hard struggle. You have fought Sauron in your mind. And you won."

"I- what?"

"The lord of your homeland. He knows that you have betrayed him."

Marina's eyes grew wide with fear. This woman knew her secret. "You know-?"

"Yes, my dear. I saw your mark. But do not fear. I mean you no harm. No one else knows of it, and that is how it shall stay."

Marina sank back onto the pillows. "What happened to me?"

"Lord Boromir brought you here after the battle. You were badly wounded, and soon after fell sick. The fever broke last night, thank the Valar. A few more hours, and I believe you would have been beyond our aide." The Healer looked at her intently. "What are you doing here, lass?"

Marina sighed. "I'm trying to... find out where I belong. What I'm fighting for." She looked into the woman's grey eyes. "How did you know Sauron was in my head?"

"Such things come with age, child," was the response, but Marina got the impression that she was hiding something.

The Healer stood up to leave. "A word of caution, lady: you cannot stay hidden forever. Remember that."

And with a swish of her dark blue cloak, the woman was out the door and gone.

Marina pushed herself up, swinging her legs out of bed and trying to stand. She was still weak, and had to grab the wooden bedpost to support herself from falling.

She stood still for a moment, eyes closed, thinking.

What was she going to do now?

To stay in Dol Amroth? To leave and head North? To go back to Mordor?

_You cannot stay hidden forever_.

_Oh but I can try_, thought Marina.

She changed out of the white sleeping-tunic she had been wearing into a simple dark red dress that she had found hanging at the foot of the bed.

Then, after checking to ensure that the mark on her arm was properly hidden, she set off down the halls, not sure exactly where she was going.

Boromir was on his way to the stable when he saw her. She turned a corner ahead of him, and he did a double-take. The figure was definitely hers- tall and broad and powerfully built, but the face was drawn and gaunt.

"Marina!" he called out. He began to run down the stone corridor to where she was.

Marina flinched when she heard his voice. She contemplated running in the opposite direction, but knew she wasn't strong enough.

Boromir stopped a foot away from her, and looked at her- still hardly daring to hope that this was real.

"You're alive," he breathed.

She nodded.

He reached out and pulled her close to him. "Thank the Valar," he said. "I was so worried..."

She pulled away, not saying anything. She did not trust herself to speak; she was working too hard to quell the burning desire to kiss the man before her.

"Marina," said Boromir. "I need to tell you... I-"

She shook her head. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say it."

"Why?" he asked, placing his hands on the sides of her face, tilting her head up to look at him.

"You don't want to love me, Boromir."

"You're wrong. Marina, listen to me-"

"No! Just stop."

"Fine." He leaned down and kissed her, heart racing in his chest.

Marina kissed him back, flooded with the emotion that had been long pent up. This is wrong, thought the voice in her head. She recalled what Ereidain had said in her dream. Being together would destroy you both...

"No!" she said, pulling away sharply. She didn't notice the tears streaming incontrollably down her cheeks. Boromir looked at her with concern.

"I-I can't," she whispered. She turned quickly, and walked away. He followed her.

"Marina, wait."

Weary and tired, she turned to face him again.

They heard footsteps, and he pulled her into a small empty chamber, closing the door behind them.

"Why do you do this?" she asked him.

"I thought it was obvious," he responded. "Marina- ever since I met you, you've been all I've thought of. You were in my thoughts all day, and you haunted my dreams by night. I kept asking myself why- why you were tormenting me like this, and then I realized. And now here we are, and it's killing me."

"It's killing me too," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Then why not surrender to it?" he asked. He brushed a tear off her cheek.

"We can't," Marina said hopelessly.

"Marina," Boromir began. "I want you to look me in the eye and answer one question. Do you love me?"

Her tearstained eyes met his. "Yes," she choked out.

Against every instinct, Marina raised her lips to his, joining them in a passionate kiss. Her arms went around his neck, fingers running through his hair. This, she thought, was right.

Boromir pulled her closer to him, kissing away the tears on her face. Her kisses were like fire, hotter even than the flames of Mordor. They spread their passionate heat through him, putting him once again, under the spell that only Marina could cast on him. He reached up for the lacing of her gown, but she caught his hand, pulling her head back a few inches to meet his eyes, breathing ragged. "Not yet," she said softly. She looked slightly uncomfortable- her face apprehensive. She was pure; a virgin still.

Reluctantly, he nodded. She kissed him again, then whispered, "What about your fiancé?"

He took her face gently in his hands. Looking into her fiery eyes, he said, "Come back to Minas Tirith with me," he said softly. "You can start your life there... if you want."

She knew what he was implying. "I want," she said.

He smiled.

She shared his happiness for a moment, but then the ever foreboding sense of doubt crept into her mind, as it always did. Her face fell.

"What is it?" he asked.

She pulled up her sleeve, exposing her mark. "This."

He looked at the eye emblazened on her skin and shuddered involuntarily. To Marina he said, "Nobody has to know. We can keep it a secret."

"Someone would find out," she protested. "Eventually. I can't keep it hidden forever. And what would happen then?"

"We can worry about it when it happens," he said, tossing the matter aside.

Marina still looked concerned.

"Marina," he said pleadingly. "It will be fine, I promise you."

A wave of tiredness washed over her. She leaned into Boromir, resting her head on his chest, and his arms enfolded her in a tight embrace. Safe as she felt at that moment, there was still a feeling in the pit of her stomach- a feeling of ever-present foreboding.

Over the next few days, life in Dol Amroth settled down after the fallout from the battle. Nearly one hundred soldiers had been slain in the fight, leaving many grieving families behind.

Soon after, Boromir and the rest of the men from Minas Tirith prepared to ride back to the White City.

On the morning of their departure, Marina dressed herself back in her normal warrior's garb- tunic and long pants, hair pulled back out of her face. It was amazing how much more comfortable it was than wearing a dress, she thought.

She and Boromir mounted their horses. Lothiriel had also decided to ride with them to Minas Tirith, eager for an adventure.

When the army was assembled and ready to depart, Boromir gave the signal, and they were off.

* * *

A/N: hey everyone. i'd reeeely like some feedback on this chapter, cause it was..... interesting to write. so i wanna kno what you think!!!!! (i know the ending was kinda crappy. i just needed somehow to end it so i could post and make all my wonderful readers happy people:)

anyhoo, i need to take this opprotunity to thank all of my wonderful reviewers!!!!! so here goes:

**lordoftheringsfanficreader- **my oh-so-loyal reviewer who has reviewed every chapter without fail!!!!! thank you for your encouragement. i'm sorry if i made you cry. couldn't help it. i'm glad you loved the fight scene too, cause i had fun writing it. so keep reading..... and review, like i'm sure you will!!!! cheers to you too!

**gondoriangurl**- okay- keep them short reviews comin'! glad you liked the battle and everything. I still think its irony how they kicked you off , by the way. hope you like this chappie!

**bonbon**- you are forgiven for the short review. i don't care if it was short at all. i'm just glad you dropped a line!!! thanks for your positive comments, they made me happy!

**Elora Nova**- OKAY- HERE'S YOUR UPDATE!!!!! so how was it??? review and i'll post the next one....... p.s.- i read your lotr story. good job; keep it coming. (i wrote more in my review) one more note about that: i review all stories under an anonymous name (iSpeekyGreeky) just to let you know.

**onesoulonemind**- glad you love it.

**The faerie enchantress**- thanks& keep reviewing!!

**BrokenShells**- here's your update. please don't cry, because i am not a licensed therapist. ;)wink

**Shallindra**- my sentiments exactly

**:) aka the Random Fangirl who Just Loves the LOTR Movies (has never read the actual books)and so Isn't Qualified to Write A Long Review about LOTR Fanfiction**- if you're still out there, thanks for the review, and i hope you like this chapter. (your name is awesome by the way.)

**miraxx**- thanks!

whew. okay. i think that's everyone.

so...... you guys know what to do now, right????


	17. Tower in the Clouds

Sorry bout the long wait between updates. my computer got this virus, which was a pain in the rear to deal with, and i couldn't get online. xXx I should mention: we're coming up on the events of the Fellowship of the Ring. For all those who are wondering, i DO NOT intend to make this a "tenth walker" story. i just think that my insertion of an OC into their actual journey would screw up tolkien's wonderful, wonderful plot line, etc. HOWEVER: THIS DOES NOT MEAN THAT MARINA WILL BE OUT OF THE STORY!!! (would i EVER do that to you? i mean, come on.) no, i have.... another plan for our little Mordorian. (mua ha ha) but i'm not gonna give anything else away! ;) i'd like to know what you all think about that, k? so write me a review. cause i like those things, ya know. xXx

also: warning for this chapter: EXTREME FLUFFINESS. if you don't like that kind of stuff, sorry, but its romance for a reason. this was just a little fuzzy scene that came to me while i was trying to write the next chapter.

-one last note: any historical information in this chappie is probably stuff i made up.

enjoy and review :-)

Chapter 17- Tower in the Clouds

The ride to Minas Tirith proved to be an uneventful one, and also a disheartening one for Marina. She and Boromir had agreed to keep their distance from each other during the ride, as all of the soldiers knew of Boromir's engagement, and neither wanted rumors started. Having Lothiriel along provided a believable cover story. The other soldiers assumed that Marina was accompanying the princess to Minas Tirith.

After the first day of riding, the men made camp. The mood was dark and solemn- all were remembering their fallen friends and comrades who had perished in the battle.

When she curled up under her blanket that night, Marina felt alone and cold. She wanted nothing more than to go over to Boromir and let him hold her, to have his body warm her and the beat of his heart lull her to sleep. But instead, she was resigned to face the dark, lonely night by herself. She closed her eyes, and sleep captured her.

The next few days passed in the same fashion.

On the fifth night of riding, the men's morale seemed to be lifting slightly. Someone produced a significant quantity of liquor, and the soldiers drank liberally.

A drunken celebration followed.

The soldiers made so much noise with their singing and raucous laughter, Marina thought they could probably be heard in Mordor. When the noise began to die down, and the soldiers began to pass into a subdued drunken stupor, Boromir caught Marina's eye from across the fire. He stood, and motioned for her to follow him. She waited until he had left, then made her way slowly around to where he had gone. She followed him as he walked deeper into the woods, until she could no longer see the glow of the fire or hear the men's snores.

The air that night was warm- the world was awakening from a mild winter, cascading into the promise of spring.

When they were deep enough in the glen, Boromir turned to face Marina. Words, he thought, were pointless, so he did the thing he had been longing to do since they had set out.

Marina returned his kiss warmly, letting him envelope her in his arms. He lifted his head to look at her, still holding her securely to him, as though fearing that if he let go, she'd disappear again.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I was just thinking," he said. "About the future. About what will happen when we reach Minas Tirith."

"Ahhh. We have had this dilemma before, haven't we, Captain?"

Boromir smiled, remembering the time she had been a prisoner.... and how they had parted.... His look turned serious. "Yes. And I almost lost you. I can't imagine what-"

She put a finger over his lips. "Then don't," she said.

"Don't what-?"

She brought her lips to his again, and he was lost, drowning once again in the sea of her love. Funny, he thought, how she had the power to make him forget everything. His only coherent thought was of how much he loved her.

"We should get back," Marina breathed in his ear. "If they find us gone..."

He nodded. Kissing her one last time, they headed back to camp, returning to their beds on separate sides of the clearing. For the first time since they had set out from Dol Amroth, Marina went to sleep happy.

* * *

Two days later, they arrived in Minas Tirith. Marina's heart skipped a beath when she saw the white tower of Ecthelion on the horizon, the same tower she had seen from the vista in Mordor, all those months ago. She suddenly felt out of place.

_Who am I fooling_? she asked herself. _I can't do this_.

But she remained silent, riding behind Lothiriel up the various levels of the city. When they neared the top, the rest of the army turned toward the stables, but the three of them, along with some of the higher ranking soldiers, rode on to the citadel.

Several servants came out to meet them, leading Lothiriel and Marina away to their own quarters. Marina cast one last look at Boromir before following the servant. He gave her a small, reassuring smile. As they walked, Lothiriel nudged her friend, and slipped a scrap of paper into her hand. "He asked me to give you this," she hissed, low enough so that the servants would not hear.

Marina opened it to find a short message, scribbled in Boromir's handwriting:_ Just play the part, and all will be well._

She smiled, though she was still nervous. The 'part' she was playing was to be Lothiriel's companion on her journey from Dol Amroth. Boromir's confidence heartened her slightly.

They turned a corner and nearly ran into a tall, slender man walking in the opposite direction.

"Faramir?!" said Lothiriel.

"Lothiriel? What the blazes are you doing here?" her cousin asked, overjoyed to see her.

The princess of Dol Amroth shrugged. "I needed a change of scenery." She snuck a glance at Marina, who felt her cheeks turning slightly red. Lothiriel knew the real reason she had come.

"Is Boromir here?" Faramir asked. "Did he come back with the rest?"

"Yes- he's fine. As we knew he would be. How are things here?" Lothiriel asked.

"We just returned from a two-week ongoing fight to keep Osgiliath under Gondorian control."

The three of them began to walk down the corridor.

"Is it bad down there?"

Faramir nodded gravely. "More Orcs come every day. There are still some soldiers down there, anticipating the next wave of attacks. Now that the rest of the army is back, I am trying to hope that things will improve, but... as the days pass, that doesn't look likely."

"What will happen if the city is lost?" Marina asked.

"Sauron will then move his forces to Minas Tirith. He will break the city. Osgiliath puts him in position to mass a strong army for such a purpose."

Marina shuddered as she remembered all the Orcs and other things that were behind the Black Gate, waiting to be unleashed. Sauron had only to give his word, and all hell would be unleashed on the free peoples of Middle Earth. But the lord of Barad- Dur waited, biding his time in his tower, waiting until resistance began to fail.

"Gondor's armies are still strong," Marina said. "The attack you speak of will not come for some time. He waits until you weaken. Then, when your resistance is low, he will strike."   
"How do you know this?" Faramir asked.

Marina shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, while knowing she had probably said too much. "Does it not seem like an obvious plan?" she questioned.

"You know much for a woman," Faramir commented. "Who are you, and where are you from?"

"My name is Marina, lord, and I was born here, in Minas Tirith." How easily the lie now slid off her tongue.

"But you were in Dol Amroth?" he asked.

"Yes. My mother- my only kin- died recently, and I wished to see more of the world."

"I see," Faramir said.

Another servant appeared infront of them. "Lord Faramir- your father has asked you to come to the throne room at once, sir."

Faramir nodded to the servant, and looked sideways at Lothiriel. "Wonder what he's holding me at fault for this time," he said pessimistically.

Lothiriel made a face. "Must you be pessimistic all the time, Faramir?" she asked him.

"I'm not pessimistic," Faramir defended. "I've just had a history which strongly leads me to suspect verbal lashing whenever I am summoned to the Steward's throne," he continued, though smiling.

He bowed shortly to the princess, and headed off.

* * *

Later that day, Boromir was pacing in his chamber. His father had announced that afternoon that Arien's father wanted to hurry along with the marriage, and thought it should be done sooner rather than wait. Denethor, it seemed, agreed wholeheartedly. The Steward was so eager to ensure an heir, he completely overlooked his son's wishes. And Arien's, for that matter.

Needless to say, he hadn't mentioned Marina. He could just imagine his father's reaction to him saying that he was in love with one of Lothiriel's servants, who was actually a girl from Mordor who he had captured but later released on one of his previous missions.

There was fault in every aspect of that statement. Marina wasn't high enough socially, she was from Mordor, and it would anger Denethor that Boromir had released her.

So he would say nothing.

Yet.

But his father would soon have the date of the wedding chosen. He sighed in frustration.

He couldn't concentrate on his thoughts now. All he could think of was Marina. She was going to kill him for it, but he had to see her. He walked out of his room and headed toward her quarters. Before he knocked, he checked up and down the halls. There was no one about. Marina opened the door, looking genuinely shocked to see him.

Then, before he could say anything, she grabbed him by the collar and forcibly yanked him into the small room, shutting the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I had to see you," he said.

"You had to? So you risked getting us caught, having your father find out, having my identity revealed? Do you have any idea how bad this could turn out? Someone could have seen you come in here and-"

Boromir kissed her to shut her up. "No one saw me," he assured her. "I promise. And besides," he said, tucking a strand of her black hair behind her ear. "I don't like keeping this a secret."

"Well," she said staunchly, "it's on you to tell your father about us, which, I take it, you haven't done yet."

"No. I haven't," he said reluctantly.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He looked on edge about something, and she was determined to find out what.

He sighed, fingers still running through her soft hair. "My father wants me to marry soon. Sooner than I had expected."

Marina moved away and walked over to the window, thinking. "How soon?" she asked.

"He hasn't said when yet."

Marina let out a deep breath.

"Look, Marina. Let's not talk about this... not now." He reached out and touched her arm gently. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

"We're going to get caught," she said pointedly.

"Aren't you the pessimist," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "No- I'm the one who actually doesn't want your father to catch us and ruin this whole thing!"

"Just follow me, all right? No one will find us where we're going."

He lead her through the halls of the citadel to the end of a corridor; a dead end.

Marina was confused. "So let me get this straight," she said in her usual sarcastic tone of voice, "You brought me to the end of a wall. Very romantic, Captain. You could charm any woman with that."

He shook his head hopelessly and pulled up a small rug covering the marble floor. Except the floor beneath the rug wasn't marble. It was infact a trapdoor, cut into the marble. He heaved the heavy door open, revealing a steep- and dark- set of stone stairs.

"Down there," he said.

"You're daft, Boromir. I'm not about to go exploring dark tunnels with you."

"Do you trust me, Marina."

"At this moment, no." Boromir looked at her, and saw that she looked rather nervous.

"I swear- we won't be in the dark tunnel forever. I know the way."

Marina slowly began to climb down the stairs. Boromir pulled the rug so that when the door shut, it would be covered. He had been down the passage enough times to know how to be discreet.

"Boromir?" came Marina's voice.

"I'm coming," he said.

"Where are you?"

"Right here," he said, nudging her softly. She jumped a foot in the air.

"How can you see in here?"

"I can't. I followed your voice. Come on." He took her hand and began to walk.

"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously.

"You'll see."

"Why can't you tell me?" she asked.

"Because that's the whole point of a surprise," he said.

"A surprise at the end of a dark tunnel. Doesn't sound promising."

"Have a little faith, would you?"

"Well- all my life I've been told to watch out for dark tunnels. There was one... in Mordor- a hidden tunnel. And you want to know what's at the end of it? A man-eating spyder!"

Her grip on his hand tightened.

"Are you frightened of this?" he asked her seriously.

"No," she said. "Well... yes. I don't like dark places."

"Don't worry. We'll be out of the darkness soon. I promise."

They walked on for a short while before the floor started sloping upwards. The floor began to form steps once again. They began climbing. Marina counted the steps- over three hundred stairs.

"Stop!" said Boromir suddenly.

She froze. "What?" she hissed.

"We're here."

He pushed up at the ceiling, and it opened. He climbed out first, then helped her out.

They were in a large circular room, made of pure white marble. There were windows facing all four directions, and in the center of the room on the floor were painted the points of a compass. The marble was sparkling in the dying sunlight.

On the domed ceiling was the crest of Gondor.

"What is this place?" Marina asked incredulously.

"It's the highest point in all of Gondor. The top of Ecthelion."

"It's beautiful," Marina breathed, going over to one of the windows.

"It was built many years ago, when Minas Tirith was young. And then, for some reason, one of the kings sealed it off."

"Why would someone want to close off something so wonderful?" Marina asked. "You can see the whole kingdom up here."

"Legend has it that the king had a beautiful wife who loved to sit up here and watch the sunset. Then, one day, an enemy of the king snuck up to the tower and killed the queen, pushing her out the tower window; an act of revenge against Gondor. The king was devastated at the death of his beloved wife, so he sealed off the tower to all people. But the king did not know of the secret passage. My mother discovered it when she came to marry my father. She showed my brother and I when we were children- it was our secret place. Father never found out. I... I used to come up here, after my mother died. I felt closer to her up here- like her spirit was still here, in this room." He trailed off. There were tears in his eyes as he remembered his mother, Finduilas. He remembered her faintly- she had died many years before- she was beautiful and full of life, always smiling at him and Faramir. With her around, even Denethor's angry scolding didn't seem terrible.

""I'm sorry, Boromir," said Marina softly.

He nodded, and looked away. When he looked back at her, the tears were gone. He smiled down at her, locking his deep brown eyes with her dark ones.

"Marina," he said, taking her face in his hands gently. "I promise you, this will all work out somehow. I have no intention of marrying Arien- ever. No matter what happens, you are the only one I will ever love." He lowered his lips down to hers.

When he raised his head, he remembered why he had brought Marina up here in the first place. "Marina," he said softly. "Look."

He turned her in the direction of the Western sky, where the sun was beginning to set, sinking slowly into the mountains. The sunset painted the horizon a bloody red color, contrasting beautifully with the steadily darkening velvet blue of the sky. Hues of pink and purple and orange stretched out like ethereal fingers over the skies, toward the tower. Marina gasped at the beauty of it all. She had never seen anything like it before in her life. She gazed out the window, taking in every second of it. She felt Boromir's hands encircling her waist, pulling her to him. The moment was perfect, she thought. She wanted to stay there- in that moment, in the sunset, for the rest of eternity.

The sun continued to disappear into the West, dramatically pulling the day to a close.

When the last rays of the sun's light had vanished, the curtain of night fell on the earth, and the stars began to emerge from their homes in the shadowy recesses of the universe, twinkling and shimmering from their heavenly places.

Boromir turned Marina around to face him. "I wanted to give you something," he said, taking something from the pocket of his tunic. It was a small pendant, silver, with a blue gem in the center. "This was my mother's," he said softly. "It was made by the elves. She gave it to me before she passed away. She told me to give it to the one who I truly love..."

He fastened it around her neck, fingers lingering on her skin.

"I love it," Marina whispered, holding the pendant to her heart. "I love _you_, Boromir."

Every care, every worry, every apprehension evaporated as he kissed her again.

* * *

A/N: so what do all my wonderful reviewers think?? you guys know what to do..... hmmm this story is getting a bit too mushy for my taste. what say we throw our heroes something.... unexpected..... savvy?

am i killing you yet? review, and i promise that the next chappie will be up soon.....


	18. Discovery

hey guys- sorry about the long wait since my last update. i was all set up to update a few weeks ago, butff was updating its settings, so i couldn't get on, and thenmy computer was suddenly the victim of a random virus, which resulted in the re-configuring of pretty much the whole system. so.... to make you all happy, i am posting not one but TWO new chapters, and i'm promising another one assoon as i get to a stopping point. now.... REVIEW.... if you guys are stillwith me.

Chapter 18- Discovery

Lady Arien was walking through the halls of the palace that night when she ran into Lothiriel.

"Lady Lothiriel," she called lightly, in her soft, musical voice. "Have you seen Lord Boromir tonight?" she asked.

Lothiriel shook her head. Come to think of it, she thought, she hadn't seen Marina either. Which made the situation quite suspicious. She hoped to the gods that they weren't doing anything they would.... regret. "I haven't seen him, Lady Arien," Lothiriel said. "Why?"

The other woman shrugged. "I needed to speak with him. Our fathers are planning to have us wed in three weeks."

Lothiriel's jaw dropped open. "What about waiting.... a year or so? I thought that was what you were going to do."

Arien sighed. "That was, originally, the plan. But," she sighed, "things have changed. My father and Steward Denethor want us to marry quickly. It is their decision, and we must respect it."

"Do you _want_ to marry my cousin, Lady Arien?" Lothiriel asked pointedly.

"Yes," she responded.

"Why?" Lothiriel countered. "It can't possibly be because you love him. You've only known him for what, a month? What do you really want from this marriage? Notoriety? Riches?"

"I want to fulfill my duty to my lord and country," she answered nobly.

Lothiriel snorted in disgust. "I don't believe that."

Arien stuck her nose in the air. "Believe what you will, your highness. But I am marrying Boromir nonetheless."

She strode off, taking small, mincing, ladylike steps.

_Valar save Boromir if he's forced to marry that_, thought Lothiriel. _She's awful_.

She began walking in the other direction, thinking. _"...planning to have us wed in three weeks."_ Arien's words echoed in Lothiriel's head. _Three weeks_, she thought. That would ruin everything!

_It was irony_, she thought. They couldn't force Boromir and Arien to wed. They just couldn't. Not when Boromir's true love was here, in this very city!

The injustice of the situation was enough to bring stinging tears to Lothiriel's grey eyes. It wasn't fair- Boromir and Marina's love was true, it was pure and selfless. From the few days since she'd found out, Lothiriel could see it. It wasn't lust, or fantasies, but real love. They both cared for each other, needed each other. It was exactly the kind of love that Lothiriel had dreamed of finding for herself some day. She envied her cousin's happiness. And then there was Arien. All she wanted was the wealth that would come from wedding the son of the Steward.

Something had to be done to stop the marriage.

Lothiriel was going over several hundred ways to sabotage the wedding, when she saw another figure coming down the hall, walking quickly.

"Marina!" said Lothiriel with relief. "Stars, where have you been? You weren't in your chamber-"

Marina just smiled, which made her friend wonder.

"Marina.... tell me."

"With Boromir."

_Oh, Valar. They didn't._

Lothiriel grabbed Marina by the wrist and pulled her into her room, shutting the door behind the two women.

"Marina," said Lothiriel for what sounded like the fiftieth time. "Tell me that you and Boromir didn't-"

"No." she said shortly.

Lothiriel let out a deep breath of relief. "Good. Because I would have killed my cousin if...."

"You don't trust me not to do anything stupid, Lothiriel?" Marina asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nay- I trust you. Its Boromir I don't trust... in situations concerning the heart."

"Why?"

"Nothing... he just...."

"Lothiriel- tell me."

"Well... when Boromir was... younger... he was, er- rather stupid... if you know what I mean."

"I see," said Marina testily.

"But it's different now. He really loves you, Marina."

"I know."

"And he's engaged."

"I know."

"And we have to do something to stop this wedding."

"I know."

"Well," said Lothiriel huffily. "I guess it's good you're aware of this, then."

Her friend's frustrated state made Marina laugh.

"You're unusually giddy, Marina," Lothiriel pointed out.

This only made her laugh more.

"Fine," the princess said. "Since you're obviously drowning in a sea of happiness right now, I'm going to find Boromir. I must have some words with him."

Marina stopped laughing. "Don't-"

"I won't mention what happened between two tonight, if that's what you're trying to say."

Marina sighed, but nodded.

Her friend left, leaving Marina alone with her thoughts.

_What am I doing?_ she asked herself. _Giving myself away?_ She frowned angrily_. No_, she thought, conversing mentally. They wouldn't go that far- not so soon, anyway.

She wasn't ready for it yet.

* * *

Lothiriel strode toward her cousin's chamber.

When he opened the door, he looked surprised to see her. "What is it?" he asked, seeing the look on her face.

She stepped past him into the room. He shut the door behind them, and stared at her expectantly.

"When are you going to tell your father?" she asked exasperatedly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Tell him about Marina, half-wit! What are you waiting for?"

Boromir sighed, and didn't answer.

"Boromir," Lothiriel said, a note of annoyance in her voice. "This is getting out of control. You have to tell him that you aren't marrying Arien, before you and Marina get caught. Think about what would happen if that happened. What do you think they would do to her? Or you? It doesn't take a genius to know that your father would be anything but pleased."

"Lothiriel," Boromir countered. "I know all of that. Believe me- I've had this same lecture from Marina. But it isn't that easy."

"But you have to!" Lothiriel protested. "They want you to marry in three weeks, Boromir! And that can't happen!"

"What?"

Lothiriel's face fell. "You didn't know?"

He shook his head.

"Denethor pushed the date up. I think Arien's father had something to do with it, though."

Boromir stroked his chin in thought. "Tomorrow is the victory feast. Father will be in a good mood. I will tell him then."  
Lothiriel nodded, and turned to leave.

When she was gone, Boromir began to think about how complicated the whole situation had gotten. Tomorrow, he knew, was not going to be pleasant.

* * *

The next day, the preparations began for the feast honoring the men of Gondor who served in the army- both the living and those who had perished in the battle.

Marina was awoken early that morning by Lothiriel knocking on her door.

Groggily, she got out of bed and opened the door.

"Wha-?" she asked, still half-asleep.

"We've got to get you ready for the feast tonight," said Lothiriel, an enthusiastic gleam in her eye.

"Why?" Marina protested. "We have all day."

Lothiriel raised an eyebrow. "You've never been to a formal event before, have you?"

Marina shook her head.

"I figured. Follow me."

* * *

Several hours later, Marina was unrecognizable. She was laced into one of Lothiriel's fancy white gowns, with a low neckline and beading on the hems. Lothiriel had swept up her hair into an intricate braided design, and put some kind of white powder on her face, softening her features slightly.

Looking at her reflection in a mirror, Marina was taken aback at what she saw.

"What do you think?" Lothiriel asked, lacing up her own gown of pale sky blue.

"I think I barely know myself now," Marina responded.

Lothiriel smiled. "I just hope Boromir can keep his... composure... when he sees you. Considering the fact that he'll be sitting next to his "in laws" to be."

Later in the evening, when the feast was about to begin, Lothiriel and Marina headed toward the banquet hall. All of the nobility were there- well dressed men and women.

Lothiriel had to sit at the high table, but she promised to meet Marina after the meal ended.

The crowd stood as Lord Denethor entered, followed by Boromir and Arien.

As he walked by the rows of people, he couldn't help feeling guilty. He felt guilty about lying to Arien, lying to his father, and lying to his country.

His eyes fell on a pretty young woman, dressed in white. As they neared, he realized with a start that it was in fact Marina. He had to hide a double take as he passed her- she looked.... unlike herself. Beautiful, no doubt, but still different. She met his quick gaze with a polite smile, displaying no real emotion.

He and Arien took their seats at the high table, next to Denethor and Arien's father. A few seats down, Lothiriel snuck Boromir a smile.

The feast began with a remembrance of the ones who had died in the battle against the Haradrim. There were toasts to the dead, toasts to victory, and toasts to the line of Stewards continuing with Boromir. During the meal, Boromir couldn't take his eyes off Marina. Neither, he noticed, could several young men who he saw constantly looking her way. Marina herself looked his way once or twice, but kept her face passive. She was a good actress, he thought as they locked eyes across the room for a brief moment. No one would suspect anything.

Shortly after, the dance began.

Awkwardly, Boromir lead Arien out onto the floor, all the while watching Marina dancing with one of the young men who had been looking at her earlier. His grip on Arien's hand tightened. Inside, he was seething with jealousy.

"Boromir?" Arien's voice brought him back to reality. He immediately relaxed his grip, and looked down at her with a shed of a smile.

"Yes?"

"You seem preoccupied by something," she said suggestively.

He paled. _Did she suspect-?_

"It's nothing," he recovered.

Across the room, Marina glanced over at Boromir. With a jolt of the heart, she saw that he was dancing with Arien- even smiling down at her, like he was enjoying it. Maybe he was, she thought. The thought of that made her boil with jealousy. But two could play that way.

She looked up at her partner- a tall, handsome soldier and smiled.

When the song ended, Marina dropped a messy curtsy to her partner- something Lothiriel had reminded her to do- and headed toward the open courtyard behind the hall.

Out of the corner of his eye, Boromir saw her white gown disappear down the hall. He waited for a few moments, and then excused himself, stopping to speak to some of the noblemen as casually as possible. Once he was out of the stifling banquet hall, he sped up, in search of Marina. He went out into the courtyard, but didn't see her. A few Elven swear words escaped his lips. Where the Valar had she gone?

"Hello, Captain," came her taunting voice from behind him. He spun around, and saw her leaning against the courtyard wall. The pale glow of the moon sparkled off the beads on her dress, and made her look even more angelic.

"You're not keeping your darling fiancé waiting, are you?" she asked pointedly. "You were looking pretty happy with her earlier."

Her accusation stung him. "Me? What about you?" he retorted. "You were looking pretty friendly with that soldier in there."

She laughed, seeing that he was being serious. "Joke, Captain. But I saw you looking at the poor man. Like you were going to rip his throat out for dancing with me."

"You'll be amazed how close I came to it," Boromir growled, still mildly angry at her.

"Well, then. Consider this my pledge of faith to you." She came forward and kissed him. He didn't respond at first, and she nipped his lip affectionately. "Don't believe me?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You'll have to be more convincing."

Marina smiled slyly. Their lips were inches apart when they heard footsteps coming nearer.

A panicked look filled Boromir's face. "_Hide!"_ he hissed, pushing her gently toward the bushes. She ducked behind a thick tree in the far corner of the courtyard, praying that it would conceal her.

"Boromir?" came Arien's lilting voice. "What are you doing out here?"

He turned to face the short woman. "Nothing," he said shortly.

"Come back inside," she suggested.

"I'll be there in a minute," he said, trying to get her to leave.

She sighed. "You're so secretive, Boromir," she said. "We're going to be married, after all. Why don't you let me in?"

She moved closer to him, and touched his cheek gently.

Behind her tree, Marina clenched her fists together. She wanted more than anything to rush over and strangle Arien with her bare hands.

Boromir said something that she didn't hear, and Arien reluctantly turned and walked away.

Neither of them saw her slip behind a stone pillar in the shadows.

"Marina," Boromir hissed. "Its clear. Come out."

Marina slipped out from behind the foliage.

"That was too close," she murmured. "She almost saw me." She met Boromir's eyes with a level stare. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, Boromir."

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "We'll resolve this. Soon, I promise you."

"But what's going to happen... after you tell your father... even if they call off your marriage?"

Boromir hesitated, then decided to just say it. "After this all clears up... I want to marry you, Marina. If you'll have me."

He met her eyes with such a selfless look, Marina wanted nothing more than to say yes and live happily ever after.

"We have to be rational about this, Boromir," she said. "Someone will find out. I can feel it. Someone will find out I'm from Mordor."

Boromir threw up his hands helplessly. "Then what can we do?" he asked. "Hide for the rest of our lives?"

She shook her head. "It's just so hard to think about. If we were to... marry..." she trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "When I was younger... I watched my father abuse my mother when he was home. He would just get these... mean streaks where he wasn't himself. He would always remind her that she could never leave his house because she was his wife... something that he owned. And she believed him." Marina's tone was now bitter. "She heard it so often that she believed it. She thought herself his property, that he could do with what he wished. And the sick part of it was that she depended on him. She couldn't have left if she wanted to. When I was younger, I promised myself that I would never become dependent on someone else. I just don't know if we'd be ready for marriage, Boromir."

"You think I'd ever do that to you?" he asked in disbelief.

She shook her head deftly.

Disappointed, Boromir turned away and walked back into the palace.

When he had gone, Marina kicked the ground in frustration. Why did her practicality always get in the way? Her mind was screaming at her.

But what do I want? she asked herself. She didn't know.

Did she want to be Boromir's wife?

"Quite a dilemma, isn't it?" came a cold feminine voice.

Marina whirled around, blood frozen though the night was warm.

Arien.

The young woman emerged from behind the secluded pillar she had staitioned herself at. She was looking at Marina with a scathing expression of contempt.

"What are you talking about?" Marina asked, trying to no avail to keep a steady, collected tone.

Arien laughed coldly. "What I just heard was Boromir proposing to you. Which is surprising, considering he was already promised in marriage to me."

Marina stood, rigid. "But you did not hear me accept," she said, trying to assure herself that since she had not said yes to his proposal, Arien had no grounds on which to accuse her.

Arien began to circle Marina slowly, sizing her up, like a vulture on prey. "Yes," she said. "I must say, though, that what Boromir sees in a whore like you, I will not understand."

Marina's cheeks flushed crimson red.

Arien rolled her eyes. "But I suppose Boromir is just concerned in fulfilling his... desires. He'll soon want nothing to do with you, I promise you that. He has me- and mark my words, we will be married."

"Fine," said Marina. "Be married then. Consider that his proposal to me meant nothing."

She turned to leave, holding the hem of her gown slightly above the ground.

"That's not all I heard," came Arien's voice, hinting of scornful triumph. "Mordorian." The word rolled off her tongue like a bitter curse, a death sentence.

Marina stopped dead. No, she thought, heart dropping.

"Is it true?" Arien asked silkily.

Marina didn't answer.

She heard Arien's gown rustling as the other woman moved closer. She looked Marina in the eye, and asked the question again.

"Is it true?"

When no reply was given, her victorious look grew.

"Let's have a look, shall we?" she asked in a taunting, sing-song voice. Before Marina could react, Arien had grabbed her arm- the one that bore the mark, and jerked back the long, flowing sleeve. Marina tried, desperately, to break free, but Arien's talon-like grip prevented her from movement.

And there, burned into Marina's skin, was the mark of Sauron.

"Traitor," Arien said quietly, poisonously.

She released her grip, and Marina recoiled, pulling the sleeve protectively over the mark.

"So Boromir knows," Arien commented. "I suppose that makes him a traitor as well. You know," she went on, "if I'm not mistaken, the penalty for treason to Gondor is death. If they were to find out, people would be quick to think you a spy, and what would happen then?"

Marina flinched.

"I'll tell you what would happen," Arien hissed. "You would be taken out into the heart of the city, where all could see you. They would brand you a traitor, condemn you. And then... they would kill you- make an example of you for those who seek to contest the rule of the Steward and the realm of Gondor. Now think. I hold your fate in my hands. I can tell everyone right now who you are. There would be no time for you to escape. I would even venture to say that should that happen, you'd be dead by sunset tomorrow." She paused, letting her words sink in. Then, she continued. "But there is a bigger picture to think about. I have a proposition for you. One which would serve us both, to some extent."

Marina knew she had to stall Arien. "Name it," she said through clenched teeth.

Arien smiled, satisfied. "Very well, then. I won't reveal you to the guards. However, in exchange for my silence, I want you to leave. Leave Gondor- tonight- and never return. Should you not keep to this, and find your way back here- I will expose who you are, and you will be killed. Do we have an agreement?"

Marina weighed it in her mind. There was no other option. She nodded.

"Good," said Arien. "Very good. Now listen carefully. Go now. Go straight to your chamber; pack whatever you need. Say nothing to Boromir or anyone of why you're leaving. Tomorrow Boromir will believe you have left him. He'll be brokenhearted, I'm sure, but his grief will last all of a few days. He'll soon forget you, little one."

Arien waved her hand dismissively. "Now get out of here. And may the Valar protect you if you ever set foot in this city again."

She left, heading back into the feast.

Marina stood, immobile for a moment, thinking of what she had just agreed to.

Then, head and heart heavy with fear and sadness, she ran- toward her chamber as fast as she had ever run in her life. She flung the door open; eyes blurred by tears, and began shoving clothes into a small rucksack. She changed out of the beautiful white gown back into her warrior's garb, laying the garment gently onto the bed.

She heard the door creak open behind her.

"Marina?" Lothiriel's voice questioned.

Marina quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to face her.

"What are you doing?" Lothiriel asked her.

"I- I," Marina stumbled. "I have to leave," she said finally.

"Leave?" said Lothiriel in disbelief. "Why?"  
"I just can't stay here anymore."

"Why? Was it Boromir- did he do anything..."

Marina shook her head. "No. Its just time for me to go."

"Have you even told Boromir you're going?"

"No."

Lothiriel's eyes narrowed. "So you're just going to leave him, is that it?"

Marina didn't answer. She bent over to pick up her rucksack from the floor. As she did so, the pendant that Boromir had given her caught Lothiriel's eye.

"Boromir gave you this," she said when Marina stood up, motioning to the necklace.

Marina nodded.

"And does it mean nothing to you?" Lothiriel asked in a steely tone.

Marina turned away.

"Boromir's mother gave that medallion to him, right before she died. It's the only thing he has of her. She told him to give it to his true love someday."

"I know that," said Marina. "He told me."

"And yet you're leaving him? Have some sense, Marina! Do you know what this will do to him?"

"I have no choice," said Marina flatly. "You have to let me go."

Lothiriel crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. I cannot force you to stay here against your will. But understand what you are doing. Do not expect welcome in this city, for Boromir can be unforgiving. As can I," she added.

Marina left, walking briskly past Lothiriel before she could say another word. She made her way quickly down the marble halls, to the stables, just putting as much distance as possible between her and the people at the feast. She tacked up a spare horse and mounted, not looking back until she was out of the city.

On the crest of a hill a short distance away, she turned and looked back at Minas Tirith.

How long, she wondered, would it be before Boromir realized she was gone?

Would he ever know the truth?

She sighed shakily, though not letting herself shed tears, and with that, turned the horse away from the city, riding off into the night.

* * *

A/N: i will have to say that i'm not really outrageously happy with this chapter. it just wasn't flowing like i wanted it too, and i know that Marina is really beginning to sound like a whining -gasp- Mary Sue. Which is officially my worst nightmare, guys!!! so i need some feedback/suggestions/criticism.

on the other hand- who officially hates Arien out there???? well, i told you it was getting too sappy. sorry to those who don't like this, but its all part of my evil grin master plan (muahahaha). Which brings me to another point: we are pretty much up to the events of the early stages of the fellowship of the ring. (more about that in the next chapter)

to quote gandalf: "things are now in motion that cannot be undone." so what will happen next, i wonder? another evil grin i would like to remind you all however, that this story will probably not follow the book EXACTLY. i have to allot for slight variations so the plot will do what i want it to. that's why i called it an AU. :) besides, you all have read the book..... so what would be the point of me writing it all over again??? :)

also to my ONE new reviewer, BrassyBane: welcome aboard! glad you like it, and i agree with you wholeheartedly. it is cheesy at bits, but some days the cheesy stuff is just begging to be written! hope you keep reading.

to everyone else, i love you guys

now make me happy and press the little blue button at the bottom of your screen.........


	19. Mithrandir

Chapter 19- Mithrandir

(A/N: everything in here is pretty much my spin on things. don't flame me for it, please.)

As Marina was riding farther and farther from Minas Tirith, Boromir was still at the feast, unknowing of the events that had just transpired. Engaged in a rousing conversation with some of the soldiers, he didn't notice Arien re-enter with a smug look on her face.

He didn't notice the absence of a pretty young woman in a white gown.

For the Captain of Gondor, the night wore on, in all its splendid glory; the rash words he had exchanged earlier with Marina were all but forgotten.

It wasn't until later when he realized her absence.

As the crowds slowly started to disperse, he began to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. He didn't see Lothiriel either, but shook it off, thinking that there was probably a logical reason for their not being there.

It was late, and his head hurt slightly from the consumption of liberal amounts of strong Gondorian rum.

He made his way to his chambers and lay down on his bed, mind cloudy with semi-drunkenness. However, for all his muddled thoughts, there was one thing that kept surfacing in his brain, and that was Marina. He laughed to himself.

When was he ever not thinking about Marina anymore?

Sometime while thinking about the way she had looked in that white gown, Boromir faded out into a deep sleep.

He woke hours later, knowing that something was wrong.

He sat, bolt upright in bed, breathing hard. He had been having a nightmare- but couldn't remember any of it. Yet the dream had left him with an ominously unsettling feeling. Looking out his window, it was just before sunrise. He sighed, and got out of bed. It would be too risky to go down to Marina's chamber- if he was seen anywhere near there at this hour..... he could just imagine the gossip that would follow.

Not that Boromir cared about the petty chit-chat of the members of the court.

He didn't.

But he knew Denethor did.

Having nowhere else to go, Boromir dressed and headed in the direction of the passage leading to the tower. Once at the top of Ecthelion, he stood at the window, looking down on his home. Beyond the white marble of Minas Tirith was the rolling plains of Pelennor Fields. And on the horizon was the land of Mordor- fire red, under a smoke-laden sky.

He thought about the previous night. Had he been too forward by asking Marina to marry him, he wondered? He had seen the look on her face- she had been afraid. He supposed her fear was justified. Beside the obvious worry of someone discovering her secret, he suspected that she didn't know much about love and marriage, coming from the land of all evil. From what he understood, in Mordor, marriage was more of a necessity than something entered into freely. Maybe he shouldn't even have brought it up.

He shook himself in frustration. The woman was a constant puzzle to him. He never knew what she wanted, and it was driving him mad.

He began to pace.

Should he ask her again? Or not say anything at all.

It was perplexing- he was entirely inept at this. He had never expected to fall in love with anyone in his life. He had expected a lifetime of fighting battles, and defending Gondor, and one day ruling as Steward himself. He hadn't calculated on falling hopelessly in love with his sworn enemy.

Maybe, he thought, maybe he was asking too much of her. Maybe things would be different if he wasn't in line to take over the Stewardship when Denethor died.

He had to talk to her.

The sky was beginning to lighten, and he left the tower, heading to Marina's room, but taking caution to make sure he wasn't being followed. He knocked on the door softly. There was no answer.

He knocked again. "Marina?" he said softly.

There was still no answer.

He hesitated, then tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, and he opened it a crack.

"Marina?"

He opened it wider, and slipped in.

The room was deserted. The bed was made, and the white gown was lying neatly ontop of it. There was no sign of Marina anywhere. Taking another study of the room, he realized that her weapons were gone. The place by her bed where he had seen her sword a few days before was bare.

Where, then, had she gone?

He turned around and left the room, heading toward Lothiriel's room.

The princess of Dol Amroth was sitting at her window bench when she heard Boromir's urgent knock.

She walked over to the door and opened it. Boromir entered, looking extremely concerned.

"Lothiriel," he said hurriedly, "where is Marina?"

Lothiriel avoided his gaze. "She is gone."

Boromir narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean 'gone'?"

"I mean she has left- gone, disappeared." Lothiriel snapped.

"What- when? Why?"

"I don't know why," his cousin responded. "She left last night, during the feast."

"You knew of her departure?" His tone turned angry. "And yet you did not tell me?"

"She wanted to leave!" Lothiriel said loudly, also taking on a more rash tone of voice.

"I COULD HAVE STOPPED HER!" Boromir shouted.

"She wouldn't have listened to you, Boromir! I tried to stop her! I told her that it would break you to see her leave, but she insisted on going! You could not have stopped her!"

"So she's really gone?" he asked in a hollow voice after a pause.

Lothiriel nodded. "Yes. She is really gone. She will be miles away from here by now, Boromir."

"I have to go after her," he said.

"No!" said Lothiriel shortly.

Boromir looked at her as if she were insane. "What?"

"Boromir," she began again. "She left you. Without warning. Meaning that she probably does not want to be followed."

"How do you know that?" he hissed angrily.

"Because I spoke to her! Besides," she added, "she does not deserve your forgiveness. Just let her go, cousin."

"I can't." He said quietly.

"But you must," said Lothiriel plainly. "You have to, Boromir. If she made the choice to leave you, then she never deserved your love in the first place."

"I won't believe that," he said stubbornly. "Not yet."

He turned and strode swiftly out the door. He made his way through the halls of the citadel, past the throne room and out into the front courtyard. He then began heading down to the stable- a few levels below. As he made his way into the city, he noticed more people out than usual. Looking down to the lower levels, he saw crowds of people gathering.

"What's going on?" he asked a peasant next to him.

"Mithrandir is coming, My Lord," the man answered. "The Gray Wizard is coming to Minas Tirith."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Boromir heard hoofbeats against the cobblestone streets. Then, the wizard appeared, clad fully in grey garb, wearing a pointed gray hat. When Gandalf saw the young Captain, he slowed his horse.

"Boromir, son of Gondor," he greeted him.

Boromir bowed his head in respect. "Mithrandir."

"I must speak with the Steward," he said urgently. He dismounted, and motioned for Boromir to follow him. Leading his white stallion behind him, the wizard and the captain began trekking up toward the citadel. Boromir was mildly agitated that the wizard had chosen this particular moment to show up in Minas Tirith, just when he was about to go in search of answers, but as he took a look at Gandalf's urgent expression, he knew that whatever the wizard's business happened to be, it was of great importance.

"What have you come for, Mithrandir?" Boromir asked.

The old man looked over at the young captain. "Things are stirring, Boromir," he said gravely. "Things that may well change the course of the future."

He offered no further explanation. Boromir had known the wizard since and early age- he came often to advise Denethor, though it was rare that the Steward heeded his words. Boromir found it extremely vexing how Gandalf would never directly state anything. He would always speak in riddles, and leave the unsaid to be interpreted. Boromir knew that his brother Faramir greatly respected the wizard- the two would talk for hours when Gandalf visited, about anything from history to the prospect of human existence.

By this time, they had arrived at the citadel. Gandalf gave his horse to one of the guards to take care of, and they climbed the steps and entered the throneroom, where Denethor was seated, as he was most often times, in his throne, below the one reserved for the true King.

Boromir and Gandalf both bowed respectfully, and Gandalf spoke. "Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor."

"What is thy business in the White City, Mithrandir?" the Steward asked, in a voice lacking welcome or hospitality.

"I have come to warn you, Steward, of things that will soon come to pass."

"You speak of the shadow in the East," said Denethor. "I have seen it. The days darken."

"You know then, of what I speak?" Gandalf asked skeptically.

"I know of the oncoming dark, but I know not the cause."

"Then heed my words, for the safety of Gondor may be upon them: I tell you, Steward, evil is stirring in the world. Evil that dwelt within Mordor. The Ring of Power has awoken in the East."

Boromir started at this stark revelation- a strange thing, coming from Gandalf. And the Ring of Power.... for many years, Boromir had heard the tales of the forging of the Great Rings of Power, ages before, and how each race had been deceived by Sauron.

Denethor, however, remained passive. "The Ring of Power, you say? The one they say has the power to destroy the Dark Lord himself?"

"Yes," said Gandalf. He turned to Boromir. "Lord Elrond of Rivendell is calling for a council. A delegate from Gondor must be sent." He looked at Boromir meaningfully.

"I will go to Rivendell," said Boromir.

Gandalf nodded. "Be wary, Boromir, for ill things may befall you on the road." He gave the young man a deep, soul-penetrating look. Boromir had the impression that his soul was on display for the world to see. "Be warned of the riders in black, but be also warned of memories. For deception may fool even the most cunning, but at the road's end it falls to a great and terrible fate. Do not forget that." His eyes lingered locked with Boromir's for a moment longer, then he said, "I must be off." He bowed to Denethor and started to leave.

Boromir followed him. "Why must you be off so soon?" he asked.

"There are things I must see too," said Gandalf. "Things must be put into motion." He mounted his horse.

"What things?" Boromir challenged. "Tell me, so that I may know how to act against them."

"In time, you will see," was the response. "Make for Rivendell, as quick as you can." And with that, he was off.

A/N: okay, okay- i know that was short. but there will be better chapters to come, i promise. Like i said at the beginning of this chappie, pretty much all of that was my own spin. As for what's coming: well, it looks like this is going Movie-verse. it's just easier for me to reference and stuff. but who knows? next week i could decide to change the entire direction. you can just never tell with me! :)

so.... review.... and i predict that you will be rewarded with many more chapters of the story you all love so much!!!

also- happy thanksgiving (a little late) to everyone who celebrates it out there! and 1 more thing on that subject: is anyone creeped out by the excessive elf/santa commercials on TV??? cause they are really beginning to freak me out, because Christmas is still a full month away!!!!

aw, screw it. i'm just going to be politically correct and say, "Happy Holidays to everyone out there!"

(reviews make good gifts. so does cash.)


	20. Encounter With the Nazgul

Chapter 20- Encounter With the Nazgul

(A/N: geez- 20 chapters. i need to find something to do with my excessive spare time. once again, this is my take on things that went on during the journey to rivendell.)

Boromir left Minas Tirith a day later, heading North to Rivendell. The journey would be long, but he didn't mind it. He needed time alone, time to think.

Before leaving, though, Boromir was summoned to the throne room.

He knelt before his father, and bowed.

"Rise, son," said Denethor.

"What is your wish, my lord?"

Denethor gave the smallest of smiles. "I wish only to caution you before you depart. This Ring that the Wizard spoke of- it wields extraordinary powers. Such powers that could greatly help the land of Gondor. Think, my son. If such a tool were to fall into our hands, think of how powerful we could be. With the Ring of Power, we could put an end to the struggles between the men and Orcs. We could use it to defend our borders from foe. It would be our advantage over Sauron."

"But Gandalf did not say-"

"The Wizard is very clever- he did not tell you everything. He wants you to believe that the only way to gain victory is to destroy the Ring. But it is falsehood. Think; if the Ring were to come to Gondor, we could use it to defeat the Dark Lord, and claim dominion over these lands. It would be a new dawn for the race of men."

That was all Denethor had said. He had bid his son farewell, along with the promise of his wedding to Arien taking place when he returned. Boromir deferred saying goodbye to his wife-to-be; making a quick exit instead.

As he rode, his thoughts strayed to what Gandalf had said to him: _Deception may fool even the most cunning, but at the road's end, it falls to a great and terrible fate... _

What in the name of the gods did the old wizard mean by that, he wondered. He had also said to beware of memories. Boromir didn't understand that. How could memories put him in danger? He wondered this while he galloped over miles of brush and woodland. The first night, he stopped and made camp, risking a small fire. He sat up late into the night, smoking his pipe, musing over the irony of life. Over and over again, the question repeated itself in his mind: _why did she leave_? He refused to believe Lothiriel's version- that she had left because she didn't love him.

But then, he thought, what if it turned out to be the truth? He shuddered involuntarily. That was his worst fear- the fear of losing Marina... for whatever reason.

But if it was true, and she didn't love him... he still deserved to know, didn't he?

He inhaled a deep breath of the bitter, musky pipe smoke and let himself doze off.

He woke the next morning, pipe still in hand. Shaking himself, he stood up, stretched, packed his things on the back of his horse, and began riding again.

* * *

The next three days went on without incident. He began turning east, along the Great River. On the evening of the fourth day, he settled in to camp as always. There was a full-moon in the sky, illuminating the earth- the trees whispering in the light breeze and the little patches of mist that hung in the air.

Tired after another hard day of riding, Boromir fell asleep soon after making camp.

A scream in the middle of the night shook him out of sleep. His hand shot out and unsheathed his sword in the blink of an eye. He got to his feet. The woods were silent once again. He looked around, turning around to check behind him. He strained his ears, but heard nothing. He halfway suspected he had imagined the scream. But the other half of him knew that it had been quite real...

From off in the distance... he heard hoof beats, growing closer by the second.

Another scream.

A figure stumbled out into the clearing where he was camped- a figure he recognized all too well.

"Marina!"

She flung herself at him with a force so great he was knocked back, crying out in relief. His sword dropped out of his hand as he held her close, clinging to her desperately. She did the same, turning her face up to his. She looked extremely shaken- there were signs of tears on her cheeks. He took her face in his hands rather roughly.

"Why?" he asked frantically, kissing her. "Why did you leave me? Why?" His voice was tight.

"I didn't want to," she whispered over and over again into his shirt.

From out of nowhere came the whinny of a horse. Boromir felt Marina's body tense in fear.

"Nazgul," she breathed. "Run!"

He bent down to pick up his sword as a huge black horse leapt into the clearing.

He heard Marina screaming behind him, and turned to run.

She didn't follow him. She stood, paralyzed by fear as the black-cloaked rider drew a blade from the inner reaches of his cloak.

"Marina!" Boromir yelled. "Move!"

But she couldn't. For she was so gripped by fear that her body refused to move from the spot. Boromir ran back, and grabbed her by the arm, jerking her into motion. "Come on!"

Still holding onto her hand, they began to run through the forest, the black rider on their tails. Boromir knew that there would be no way to out run the creatures. Their best chance would be to hide, but where...?

He and Marina continued to run, direction-blind and confused. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that they had put more distance between them and the rider, but then he also saw, heart sinking, that there were three other riders behind the leader. He jerked Marina to the left, and then he saw it. An uprooted tree had created a hole, just big enough for two people to hide and remain unseen.

"Under here!" he said, "Quick!"

He scrambled under the cover of the roots, into the darkness, and she followed him. He put his arms around her securely, holding her to him. Above him, he heard the horses stop near where they were hiding. Through the gaps of the tree, he could dimly see the hooves of the gigantic black horse.

Marina gave a small whimper, and Boromir clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her silent, holding her even more tightly. She was shaking involuntarily, from fear. Overhead, the horses grunted and whinnied, while their masters stood, listening for any sound of their prey. After what seemed a lifetime, Boromir heard them move away, heading off deeper into the wood.

Marina shifted, but Boromir hissed, "Don't move. They may still be near here."

He felt Marina nod, and fall still again.

"We'll stay here tonight," he whispered.

Another nod. Several minutes later, Marina was sound asleep, head resting against his chest. With his free hand, he stroked her hair lightly, not wanting to wake her. He was at an odd angle- half sitting and half- lying against the back of the tree, and he knew that he would get little sleep. He must have dozed off for a short while later in the night, because when he woke, the sun was rising. Marina was still sleeping in his arms, looking peaceful.

He stared at her sleeping form, savoring the moment. She made a small noise, and her eyes opened. She smiled when she saw his face. "How long have you been watching me?" she asked.

"Not long," he said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well," he said, "it's not like I could sleep with you pinning my arm down."

She sat up, realizing that she had been sleeping on his left arm.

"Well, it wasn't me who put you in that position."

"But you liked it."

"So what if I did?" She looked at him with a smile. "Are you all right?"

"Don't worry- it's long since gone numb."

She rolled her eyes. "All men are babies," she stated.

They crawled out from under the tree.

Boromir gave a short laugh, but then his look turned serious. "What were those things last night?" he asked.

Another involuntary shiver coursed through her body. "The Nazgul. Black riders who dwell in Minas Morgul. They were kings once, but they were all corrupted by the Ring."

Boromir looked at her with new interest. "You know of the One Ring?" he asked.

"Of course," she responded. "Everyone knows about it in Mordor. They know that the Dark Lord seeks it. Day and night, he looks for it- he is consumed by it, his spirit is bound to it." Marina began to walk.

Boromir followed her. "But the Nazgul. What were they doing out in these lands?"

He saw Marina stiffen. "They hunt the One Ring. They are alerted to its presence somewhere in the world of men. They will not stop until it is found... and the ones who carry it slain."

She kept walking, but did not face him.

"Those creatures frighten you. Why?"

She stopped, and gave a short, cynical laugh. "Do they not frighten you?"

"No- this is different. I have seen you stand up to many foes in battle, and you did not blink an eye. Yet you fear these black-clad riders as though they were death itself."

Another laugh, and Marina turned to face him. "I would rather face death itself than one of them," she said solemnly. She began walking again. "An encounter with the Ringwraiths would subject one to a fate worse that death. I told you that they were once men. Now they are undead. No matter what happens, they cannot die. No matter what happens, their souls can never find peace. They are doomed to wander the earth in search of the ring, drawn to the one who carries it. The blades they wield drip with the poison of the undead. A wound from a Morgul Blade could turn you into a wraith like them." She paused, and he sensed there was more. There was. She began slowly, as if unsure whether or not to tell him. "Back home, we used to hear sounds from Minas Morgul, late at night. That's where the leader of the Nine dwells. They call him the Witch King of Angmar- he is the most powerful of all the wraiths. But the sounds that would come from that place... were the most unearthly sounds of torture that were ever heard by human ears. I don't know what went on- but it was terrible. The very air over the Dead City reeks of death and torment and suffering. There is evil there that has no rest." She looked Boromir in the eye. "It is the most frightening, terrifying, awful place I have seen in my life. That is why I fear it."

They walked on silently for a few minutes.

"Marina- what happened the other night?" came the question. "Why did you leave?"

"I left because Arien knows."

"Knows- about us?"

"She knows everything."

"Define 'everything' for me, Marina."

Marina whirled around to face him again, this time looking agitated. "She knows that you love me and not her. She knows that you asked me to marry you when you're supposedly engaged to her. And she knows that I'm from Mordor. That's 'everything'."

"How did she-?"

"In the courtyard the night of the feast. She hid after you sent her away. She heard everything. After you left, she confronted me. She said that she wouldn't tell anyone about me... as long as I left Minas Tirith and never returned. She wanted it to look like I had left you."

"So you can't go back," said Boromir.

Marina shook her head. "Not while Arien still lives there."

Boromir swore under his breath. Damn that meddling, scheming, kaniving woman! he thought.

"I thought," he said, "I thought for a moment that you had left because you wanted to."

She shook her head. "Never."

More silence.

"So," Marina said aloud. "Where do we go from here?"

"Rivendell," said Boromir.

"What?"

"Rivendell- to the house of Elrond, the elf lord."

Marina raised a questioning eyebrow. "And what is it you plan to do there?" she asked.

"I don't know exactly. But a council has been summoned, and ambassadors will be there from many lands."

"Something important must have happened to call such a council. What happened?"

"The finding of the Ring of Power," he said after a pause.

Marina's face paled. "Where?" she asked.

Boromir shook his head. "I don't know. Somewhere to the East."

"Servants of the Dark Lord..." Marina murmured. "He has many spies in his service. If the Ring has fallen to one of them... then the world of men will see its downfall."

"I do not believe that the Ring is in the hands of Sauron's spies. I do not know who carries it, but if the Dark Lord had it, we would know. We will know the truth when we arrive in Rivendell."

"How long is the journey?" she asked.

Boromir thought for a moment. "I could have made it there in two weeks on horseback," he said. "But on foot it will take twice that time."

"What is your road?" she asked.

"I was following the River east, to the border of Rohan. From there, my path turns to the North, toward the Misty Mountains. Rivendell lies at the head of the mountains."

"Rohan? But that would mean passing near Isengard."

"Yes," said Boromir, half-listening.

"Things at Isengard have long been unsettled. Even before I left Mordor, there was talk about Saruman the White's secret allegiance."

"Secret allegiance? To Sauron?"

Marina nodded. "Saruman in Sauron's puppet now. His servant, who will do anything the Dark Lord asks of him. Strategically, too, Saruman is in good position to attack anyone at any time, swiftly and quietly. Sauron knows this, and before long, he will use Saruman to strike the race of men. We must move cautiously around that place, for like the lord of Mordor, the White Wizard also has many spies about."

When night fell that evening, Marina said, "We should hide again. The Nazgul rule the night, and we don't want to risk them seeing us again."

They found shelter in an abandoned burrow in the ground. It wasn't comfortable, Boromir thought, but he'd rather spend the night there than on the run from the Nazgul. He fell asleep soon after, but Marina remained awake. So the Ring had been found, she thought to herself. It could mean danger for the free people of Middle Earth. If the Ring were to fall to Sauron, she could only imagine the terror he would unleash. The Black Gates of Mordor concealed far worse things than Orcs, she knew.

From far off, she heard the distinct cry of the ringwraiths. She winced at the high-pitched noise. The black riders had a way of making her feel cold and hollow inside, like death itself had descended upon her. But their cries seemed to be diminishing, vanishing off into the distance. Even with them gone, though, Marina still found herself sleepless.

She was still awake when the sun rose hours later.

They began walking again shortly after sunrise, moving quickly through the brush.

It was nearing midday when Boromir began to feel unsettled. He felt as though someone was watching him from somewhere, hidden. The thought was very disconcerting, but it followed him wherever he went. Walking next to him, Marina noticed his tension. She gave him a look. He shook his head, motioning for her to be quiet.

The rest of the day passed slowly like that. Boromir never quite shook the feeling that there was someone nearby, watching their every move. As the sun set, he knew they would have to stop for rest.

"Marina," he said almost inaudibly.

She turned her head.

"We have to stop soon. But I think we're being followed, so I'm not going to try and hide. It'd be best to stay out in the open. Just keep your weapons close, and be ready at the first sign of anything... suspicious."

She nodded.

A short while later, they came upon a small glen, large enough to make camp in. They built a small fire, and Boromir took the first watch while Marina curled up near it to sleep.

The silence in the woods was deafening; broken only by the sounds of insects chirping or small animals moving about.

As the fire burned lower, Boromir began to feel groggy. He was just about to doze off when

CRACK!

The sound of a stick breaking pierced the air like the blade of a knife. He was wide awake, hand on his sword in a second. That had definitely not been an animal, he thought. Overhead, come clouds shifted, and the waning moon shone through.

In the pale light, Boromir could see the unmistakable glint of a sword. Someone was waiting in the bushes.

But waiting for what, he wondered, heartbeat increasing with each passing second. If they intended to strike, why had they not done so? He knew that there were many thieves and bandits who roamed the Wild, in search of unsuspecting travelers to overtake. But he and Marina, they carried nothing of value- they were traveling on foot besides.

He felt something fly past his ear. It was an arrow, which continued its journey past him, and hit the tree a few paces behind him. At once, he remembered something Faramir had said once. He had been out in the Wild on a training mission, when they had been attacked by a group of thieves. Faramir's company had overtaken them, but when he had told Boromir about the incident, Faramir had said this: "_They will fire two arrows. The first is a warning. The second one never misses."_

Boromir dove to the ground as the second arrow sang through the air, passing right where he would have been standing.

Marina, having heard the sudden movement, was shaken out of her sleep.

"Stay down!" Boromir commanded, and she froze, flattening herself against the thick blanket of fallen leaves that covered the forest floor.

The air was silent again, as if nothing had ever disturbed its peace in the first place.

Boromir frowned. Then he looked at Marina. "I'm going to try and distract them. When I do, run. If I'm not mistaken, there's a small village nearby. Just head North. I'll find you, I promise." He reached out and squeezed her hand. He swallowed deeply, gripping his sword, and then sprang up and began to run. She heard more arrows flying, and wasn't even sure whether she should risk moving, but nonetheless, she too stood up, running off in the opposite direction, sword in hand. It wasn't long before she could no longer hear any sounds of fighting. She stopped for a moment, listening.

Nothing.

She was alone, in the dark, in a wood full of thieves and Nazgul.

Or was she?

A sudden movement in the undergrowth made her heart stop.

"Boromir?" she called out faintly.

A man stepped out of the trees, but it wasn't Boromir. He was more heavyset, and had a stockier build. The hood of his black cloak was thrown back to reveal sunken eyes and a scarred complexion. His eyes had a wild look to them.

"Well," he said hoarsely, in a voice that sent a shiver down her spine. "What have we here?"

He took a step toward her.

She stepped back eyes fearful.

"Now what could a woman like yourself be doing out here in the Wild?" he asked, in the same low, menacing voice, taking another step closer.

When she didn't answer, he made a scolding noise. "Regrettable manners. Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson-" he lunged out, knocking Marina off her feet. She managed to keep her hand on her sword, but only just. She made to stand as he advanced on her again.

With a steely look, she spat, "I am not afraid of you!"

This remark was met with a hand across the face, knocking her back onto the ground. Her head was spinning with the pain of the blow- the man had used an excessive amount of force. She felt his breath close to her ear. "We'll change that, won't we, missy? A little exercise in pain should do you good." He kicked her squarely in the stomach. She couldn't disguise the yelp of pain that escaped her when his foot connected with her chest. She squeezed her eyes closed, praying for Boromir to come. _"I'll find you"_ he had said. She wasn't sure if he'd find her alive or dead. She felt her assailant's weight fall on her leg. A large hand gripped the back of her neck, forcing her head up.

"Pretty little thing, you are, missy. Shame I'll have to be killin' yeh. But not yet..." He lowered his lips down to hers, fingernails digging into the back of her neck. Instinctively, she bit down as hard as she could. She heard him yell in pain and draw away. Then, from out of nowhere, his hand came, slamming into her jaw. She heard him unsheathe a knife, and opening one eye, saw him hold it to her neck.

"You see this, missy?" he said. "I could keep you in pain for a long time with this. You could have cooperated with me, and I would have paid you with a quick, clean death. But now, my pretty, I'm going to do things nice and slow. You'll suffer for a long time before I'm done with you."

"Touch her and I'll kill you!" came a voice.

Marina exhaled in relief. He had found her!

The man got to his feet, knife bared. Boromir charged at him viciously, ready to cut off the man's head, and whatever other essential body part he could slash off with his sword. He struck the man with such a blinding anger that he didn't even think about his movements. Nor did he feel the pain of the other man's sword cutting his leg. Because a moment later, it was his sword that found itself lodged in the man's heart. He jerked it out with a victorious grunt, as the man's lifeless body slumped to the ground. Then, he limped over to where Marina was lying. He knelt down on his good leg, and touched her cheek lightly. She opened her eyes and coughed. It hurt her chest to breath, still sore from where the man had kicked her.

"Marina, are you all right?" he asked concernedly.

She nodded, and eased herself up. "I'm fine," she said. "But I'm glad you came when you did."

"What did he do to you?" Boromir asked.

"Nothing I couldn't take," she said, smiling weakly. "Who were they?" she asked after a pause.

Boromir shrugged. "Bandits. Criminals. I'm not sure, but I killed every one I could see."

"Do you think there are any more of them out there?" she asked.

"I don't know. I can only hope not." He looked around. There would still be many hours of darkness before sunrise. "We should leave now," he said. "Can you walk?"

She nodded again, and supporting herself with the help of a young tree growing near her, stood up. It was then that she noticed the gash on Boromir's leg.

"Your leg..." she said.

"Aah- it's nothing. Got hit with an arrow while I was taking on three of those bastards. Didn't help that this idiot," he jerked his thumb at the dead man, "coincidentally stabbed me in the same spot."

"Then I suppose the question is can you walk?" said Marina.

"I got to you, didn't I?" he said. "I can manage. Let's go."

She extended a hand, and helped pull him to his feet. "Right, Captain." He smiled at her, and they began walking wearily away from the site. A short distance away, though, Boromir found that the pain in his leg was increasing. Each step he took sent little arrows of pain shooting through it. Finally, his strength gave out and he fell to his knees. Marina was at his side in an instant as he tried to get up again.

"You can't," she protested. "You won't be able to walk much farther like that."

He met her eyes. "I can do it if you help me."

She nodded, and helped him up again, putting one arm over her shoulder for support. Together, they moved slowly northward.

At sunrise, both were exhausted.

"Let's hope this village of yours shows up soon, Captain, or we'll be in bad shape."

"We've been in worse shape than this, Marina," he said reminiscently.

It was midmorning when Boromir's "village" appeared before them. It was a small settlement, comprised of what looked like a single inn, and several houses; made of wood with thatched roofs. As they drew closer to the village, Marina drew the hood of her cloak up tightly around her face, thinking it best to keep her feminine identity concealed. They ventured into town, toward the inn. There were a few people out, doing morning chores.

"Rohan," said Boromir quietly. "Best not to mention who we are. If anyone asks, we're travelers from the west, just passing through these lands. And... it would probably be best if you pretended to be... er- male."

"I had every intention of doing that, I assure you," Marina replied.

They entered the inn to find it festering in the remains of last nights rowdy happenings. Men were slumped over, sleeping, rum tankards in hand, while those who were awake were feeling the effects of a full night of drinking. The innkeeper, who appeared to be sober approached them.

"Can I help you, sirs?" he asked.

Marina deepened her voice. "We were attacked by bandits on the road. He needs help." She said huskily, jerking her head at Boromir, still holding her arm for support.

"Aye," said the man. "Bring him this way."

The innkeeper lead them into a small back room, completely free of any drunken men. They sat Boromir down on a small cot, and the innkeeper looked at his leg.

To Marina, he said, "Go fetch me the leather sack, behind the counter out there."

She re-entered the front of the tavern, where most of the men were now awake and still foggy from the previous night. Stepping over three or four sleeping bodies, Marina made her way to the wooden counter, behind which she found the leather sack the man had spoke about. Taking a quick look inside, she saw bandages and some unlabeled bottles.

She took it back to the innkeeper.

"Thank ye, lad," he said. "Always keep a medicine bag handy incase things get rough." He jerked his head out to the tavern area. "Ye can never tell what them boys'll do when the drink gets ter 'em."

Using water from a pewter basin next to him, he peeled back Boromir's pant leg and began to clean the wound.

"So where did ye say you were from?" he asked as worked, by manner of conversation. Boromir caught Marina's eye.

"We're travelers. Our home lies to the West. We are returning there from these lands."

"I see." The man didn't look particularly interested. "And you said yeh were attacked by thieves, that right?"

"Aye."

The innkeeper let out a breath. "Yer not the first. For many weeks now, there's been talk of strange men roamin' the borders."

"Well whoever they were, we killed them," Boromir put in.

"You're lucky to be alive," the innkeeper responded. "Folk who've seen them say they never miss."

"If they never miss, then how would anyone live to tell about it?" Marina countered slyly.

The innkeeper shrugged. He took out a bottle filled with an amber liquid. Turning to Boromir, he said, "You better drink this. It's something real strong- I've got ter stitch this up."

He gave Boromir the bottle, and Boromir, though looking a bit skeptical, shot it down with a shudder.

He swore once, then lay back against the pillow. His head was spinning madly already, and he felt removed from the world.

He flinched when the innkeeper began sewing the skin together, but the drink numbed the pain considerably.

When he had finished, the drink began to wear off, and he felt his leg, on fire with pain. Then, Boromir did the only thing his body would let him do.

He passed out.

A/N: So our two little lovebirds have been reunited! well… I couldn't keep those two apart forever!! so tell me what you think, please!!!! I know the chapter just kinda leaves off there at the end, but I really wanted to get it posted today.

Also: I'm glad you all like that I'm going primarily with movie verse! I was kinda hesitant to do it, cuz some people don't like it, but I'm glad that's cool with you all!!

To the people who reviewed last night: lordoftheringsfanficreader (u have reviewed EVERY one of my chapters without fail!! Luv ya! And hope I answered ur questions) gondoriangurl (thanks a million!!), Rinny Leonhart/ Rikku (thankx& keep reading) and my newest reviewer: CabbyWolf- glad u love it!! keep reading and sending me reviews, cuz I like reviews a whole lot! They help me think/write faster! ;)wink

And for all my devoted readers, here's wat's coming up next…. Ch. 21- FORGING THE FELLOWSHIP….. and you all know what happens there!!

Peace&luv till I post again!

-iSpeekyGreeky

(my anonymous name, for those who don't kno!)


	21. Rivendell

Chapter 21- Rivendell

Hey guys… wow… talk about hiatus! To answer some of you, no, I have not fallen off the face of the earth… just had a LOT of other stuff going. Phanfiction was monopolizing ALL of my time… (so if you like Phantom, check em out!) Anyway… I hope this story can still generate some attention… please review so I know if its worth continuing! Tasha- as always, thanks for reviewing every chapter! And to all my other reviewers, you all rock hard core! Lastly… I apologize if the first part of this chapter seems fragmented… I wrote it a li-t-t-t-t-le bit at a time… and I think it shows! Anyway, read, review and enjoy, as always!

* * *

Boromir did not wake up until much later in the day. Marina was sitting by his bedside when he came to, having almost fallen asleep.

"Morning, beautiful," he said brightly.

"Morning?" she snorted. "Its long past midday."

"Right," he said flatly, propping himself up.

"How's the leg?" she questioned, noticing how he winced in pain as he sat up.

"Just great," he said sarcastically. "I know, I know. Men are babies," he said, seeing the look on her face.

Marina laughed- for what felt like the first time in days. "I spoke with the innkeeper- pretty amiable fellow named Deegan," she said, "He said he could give us two horses when we're ready to leave."

"Good," said Boromir, swinging his legs out of the bed. "How much did you tell him?" he asked.

"Not much. I told him we were traveling north, toward Rivendell."

Boromir nodded, getting up and walking around experimentally. He tested out his leg, trying to hide the pain that I know was excruciating.

"We can leave tomorrow," he said suddenly.

Marina raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Boromir nodded. "I'll be ready."

The two began riding the next day, leaving before daybreak and heading north. The day was uneventful- for which both were thankful, and at night, they stopped and made camp. Sitting by the fire in Boromir's arms, Marina felt safe and warm, and more at home than she had ever felt during her childhood. This was right, she thought. _This_ was home. At that moment, she thought, she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up the same way.

"We should be nearing Fangorn Forest," Boromir commented, stroking her mahogany hair gently.

"Mmmm," she responded sleepily.

"But we'll go around. There are many things in that forest that could be either good or evil."

"How much longer till we reach Rivendell?"

"A week or so."

"Dark days are coming," Marina said quietly. "If the Ring has been found... the Dark Lord, he has been waiting years for this to happen. If he obtains it... the race of men is doomed." she paused, entwining her fingers with Boromir's, thinking. "What will happen when we reach Rivendell? What will the elves be able to do against the wrath of Mordor?"

Boromir shook his head. "Nothing is certain yet. We must wait and see..."

* * *

Five days later, they arrived in Rivendell.

Even from afar, the elven refuge was a beautiful sight. It was in a valley, surrounded by a waterfall and enormous, tall trees in varying hues of gold, red, orange and brown. The elven dwellings were built right into the trees- tall, winding structures, intricate and complex. In all her life, Marina had never seen anything so beautiful. How wonderful it must be to be an Elf, she thought, to live around this great beauty every day. As she soon realized, she and Boromir were not the only ones arriving in Rivendell that day. Up ahead, Marina saw a tall, thin elf with sharp, striking features dismounting a gray mare. Upon seeing him, Boromir said that he was from the realm of Mirkwood- an Elven prince. (A/N: guess who?) There were also several short, stocky men with wild beards.

"Dwarves," Boromir whispered under his breath. "Mountain-dwellers." He jumped down from his horse, and then helped Marina down, even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself.

An elf came forward, rigid and stern-looking.

He had long, dark hair and eyes that looked like he had seen many winters. His figure and presence were dominating- there was an air of authority around him.

Boromir lowered his head in a short bow. "Lord Elrond. I am Boromir of Gondor."

"Welcome, Lord, Boromir," said the elf.

The Elf-lord turned his gaze to Marina, meeting her eyes with eyes that were as dark as the night sky, and as cold as stone. Under his watchful stare, she felt as though her mind was on display before him, that he had the power to see inside of her, and that he was staring into the depths of the secrets that she was trying so desperately to conceal.

Seeing his skepticism over her, Boromir quickly explained. "This is Marina. She is from Gondor."

"She travels with you?"

"Yes my lord."

Elrond's eyes lingered on Marina for another uncomfortable moment, before he spoke again. "The council will convene tomorrow," he said. "There we shall meet to discuss the fate of Middle Earth."

With a wave of his hand, two younger elves appeared, leading Boromir and Marina into the Elven city.

* * *

A half hour later, Marina found herself sitting alone in a beautiful bedchamber. Through the open window, she could hear the soft, steady rush of the waterfall, and the chirping of the birds in the trees. Never before had she known nature itself to be so full of music, she thought, feeling a great peaceful feeling flood over her. She moved over to the balcony that overlooked Rivendell. Leaning against the balcony railing, she rested her chin on her hand, losing herself in reverie. How magnificent it must be to live there. Perhaps she and Boromir could someday live in a place as beautiful as this… away from duty and Gondor and secrets. They could start a family… Marina's heart fluttered at the thought. When she had begun her journey, all those months ago in the mountains of Mordor, love was the last thing she had expected to find. It was almost as though the fiery Mari who had once lived for the thrill of the fight was completely gone. The thought didn't sadden her as much as she thought it would.

A soft knock sounded from the door, and a second later, Boromir entered.

Marina smiled at him, but turned her wistful gaze back out to the elven city.

She heard him come up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"And what is my little warrior dreaming about today?" he asked softly.

Marina smiled at the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath tickling her ear.

"And why would my dreams concern a Captain of Gondor?" she asked.

"Perhaps because the Captain of Gondor is so captivated, his mind is driven mad wondering…"

Marina laughed. "Might I suggest finding a more stimulating hobby?"

Boromir grunted in contemplation. "And what, perchance, would you suggest, my lady?" he asked, a smile playing around his lips.

"I'm sure if you thought hard enough you could think of something…"

She turned her head, and their lips met, gently at first, then becoming more forceful. Boromir turned her body to face him, arms siding around her waist, pulling her to him possessively. He had almost lost himself in the moment, when suddenly an outside force penetrated his senses. It was the strangest sensation he had ever felt, it was as though something were alive inside of him, stirring. It burned… but not from love… it burned from evil.

He pulled away from Marina quickly, taking his hands off of her.

"Boromir?" she asked worriedly. "What is it?"

He said nothing, turning to the balcony, gripping the thin iron until his knuckles turned white. His eyes fell to the ground below, where two peculiarly short men were standing. One was rather thin, with dark curly hair, the other, larger and fair.

There was something, Boromir thought. Something was radiating from these men… the feeling he had felt was coming from down there, he could feel it within him.

"Boromir?" Marina's voice sounded again. He felt her hand on his arm. "Please… what's wrong?"

He turned to face her and saw the concern in her eyes.

"Nothing," he said gruffly, clearing his throat. "Forgive me. I should go…"

He turned away.

"Boromir…" Marina said questioningly, confusion in her voice.

This merited no response. Marina felt her temper flare. What in the name of the Valar did he think he was doing? Walking out with no explanation when he had been perfectly happy just two minutes before?

She walked briskly to the door, putting her hand over the knob before he could leave.

"You're not leaving," she said. "until you tell me what just happened."

He met her eyes. "It was nothing. I simply need time alone." There was a strangeness to his voice as he said this. There was an emotion that Marina could not pinpoint, and it troubled her.

Nevertheless, she moved her hand away from the door, though hoping that Boromir would not leave.

He did.

Without a further word, he was gone.

The door closed quietly behind him, and Marina threw herself onto her bed in frustration. What had just happened, she wondered? Feeling suddenly out of place and alone, she curled up on the soft pillows, gazing out the window at the falling night, prepared to wait until Boromir decided to return.

* * *

After darkness had fallen that night, Boromir found himself walking aimlessly through the narrow corridors of Rivendell. He felt restless, something was tugging at him… he knew he should return to Marina… he had left earlier without any explanation, but every time he began to walk toward her chamber, he would stop and turn the other way.

The corridor he was in slowly began to widen, and after a few more paces, Boromir found himself in a small, open chamber where three hallways seemed to converge. His eyes shifted to an engraving on the wall, of a knight wielding a broken sword before an imposing figure that Boromir knew was the Dark Lord Sauron. His eyes lingered on the valiant face of the knight for a moment, and then he turned. In the center of the room was a statue of an elven maiden, cloaked, holding a stone slab in her hand. On top of the stone was a sword, broken into six pieces. He stepped up to the statue, realizing at once what he was looking at.

"The Shards of Narsil," he breathed to himself, reaching out to pick up the short hilt of the sword. "The blade that cut the Ring… from Sauron's own hand…" He touched the tip of his forefinger to the end of the blade. With a little pressure, it drew blood. He winced. "Still sharp…"

It was then that he felt a pair of eyes on him, watching his every move. He turned his head slowly, and met the eyes of a dark haired man, sitting silently in the corner.

The man's intense eyes were unsettling; there was a regal air about him.

Boromir cleared his throat, quickly dropping the sword back on the stone slab. "No more than a broken end," he said stubbornly.

He turned away as the sword clanged to the ground. The noise stopped him, but pride prevented him from turning around. He walked away, back down the corridor he had come, still feeling unsettled. His father's words swam to the surface of his mind… _If such a tool were to fall into our hands, think of how powerful we could be… _

Denethor was counting on him, he knew. He was counting on his son to bring the Ring to Gondor. Boromir let out a sigh. He knew that the kingdom was not what it once had been. His father was aging… he wanted to see Gondor restored to its former glory. Perhaps, he thought, if he was to return with the Ring, Denethor would agree to let him choose his own wife. Perhaps it would open up a door for he and Marina. With this resolution in mind, his thoughts cleared a little. The feeling he had had earlier was not completely gone… it was like a dull pain that now sat in his chest; a feeling of foreboding that seemed as though it had been a part of him forever. Reluctant to return to Marina's room, he found his way to another open balcony, and stood for the next several hours, waiting for the dawn to come.

* * *

i realise this was a bit short... apologies about that... i'll try not to leave you all hanging for so long this time ;) REVIEW! 

next up: the fellowship is formed...


	22. Forging the Fellowship

Chapter 22- Forging the Fellowship

A/N: forget me? it's been awhile. but here, at long last, is another chapter, inspired by a Lord of the Rings marathon. Enjoy!

* * *

The next morning dawned, golden and chill as the sun slowly crept up to warm the earth. Marina, still fully clothed, having fallen asleep waiting for Boromir the previous night, was roused by the first tendrils of sunlight that began to stream into her room. When she woke, it took her a moment to remember where she was, and what had happened the previous night. When it finally hit her, she sank back down into the pillows, as a small pit began to form in her stomach. Nearly seven hours later, and it seemed that she was no closer to discovering the cause of Boromir's strife than she had been the previous night. 

Frustrated, she got out of bed, and throwing a rich elven cloak over her shoulders, she left her chamber, feeling the sudden urge to be outdoors. 

The city of Rivendell was surrounded by a lush, dense forest, and as she walked deeper and deeper into the trees, Marina found her mind clearing. There was a calming, meditative air about the wood, she was filled with a sense of clarity. She had overreacted, she thought to herself. There was nothing wrong with Boromir… he was simply overwhelmed from their journey… 

While the thought seemed to satisfy the ill feeling within her, there was still a small space in the back of her mind, where doubt lingered. 

She continued to walk through the forest, completely losing track of time, when suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted another figure moving through the trees. It was an elf—a woman, tall, dark-haired and pale-skinned. She was beautiful… otherworldly, thought Marina. The elf noticed her, and raised her hand in greeting. Marina moved closer. 

"Few humans have ever ventured back into this wood," the elf said in a light, musical voice. "Most fear losing their way, wandering too far."

"It's so peaceful out here," Marina replied. "Almost worth getting lost for." 

The elf smiled, as though pleased with her answer. She began to walk, slowly, and Marina followed.

"You have come from Gondor?" the elf asked. 

"Yes," Marina responded. 

"And yet… that is not your home."

Marina stiffened. How was it that these elves knew everything?

"No…" she replied cautiously. 

The elf smiled kindly. "Do not be afraid. It is written in your eyes." 

"How do you do that?" Marina found herself asking. "You and the other elves… it's like you can read minds…" 

The elf laughed. "It is no divination of that sort. We do not read minds… there are very few with that power. We simply notice… we see things that humans take for granted. A look, a movement, even a flicker of an expression. It comes from the many years spent upon the earth." 

At this, Marina relaxed a little. They walked on, talking. Marina learned that the elf's name was Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond. 

As she listened to her speak, Marina noticed an aged sadness in Arwen's voice. The elf-princess spoke of how her people were beginning to leave the shores of Middle Earth. 

"The world is changing," she said. "Today, my father meets with the peoples of this land, to decide it's fate." 

"It has been said that the One Ring has been found," Marina said. 

Arwen met her eyes. "The Ringbearer is here," she said simply. 

Marina's eyes widened. The Ringbearer? Here in Rivendell? 

"And that is what the council is deciding?" she asked. "What to do with the Ring?"

Arwen nodded. "My heart tells me that this task will come at a great cost, to all who undertake it. Where darkness looms, pain and suffering are sure to dwell." She cast a glance upward, toward the sun. "The sun is fading," she said. "The council will be ending soon, and night will fall soon after that. We should return."

Marina nodded, and followed Arwen back. When they reached the city again, Arwen stopped. Turning to Marina, she said, "I do not know if fate will have us meet again, Marina. But may the grace of the Valar go with you, always."

"I hope that someday, our paths cross again, Arwen Evenstar," Marina responded.

Arwen smiled, and gave a small bow of her head, before turning, walking down the sloping hill. Marina went the opposite way, back to her room. 

She was halfway there, making her way along one of the outer corridors, when she heard voices. She followed them, careful to tread extremely lightly on the ground, unwilling to give herself the slightest chance of being caught. The voice speaking was that of Lord Elrond; Marina recognized its slow but confident timbre. She quickly stole down a sharply winding staircase, until she reached the meeting place. It was a circular patio, at the center of which stood a stone dais. The delegations of men, elves and dwarfs who had come to Elrond's council sat in chairs around it. Elrond himself was at the center. She ducked down behind the low wall that surrounded the patio, and crept around until she came across a small gap in the stone, inconspicuous and yet strategically located so that she could see what was transpiring. 

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo," Elrond said, motioning to one of the strange, short folk that Marina had seen the previous day from the balcony. The hobbit walked forward, setting something on the dais. Marina gasped silently. It was a small, gold ring—the One Ring of Power. A feeling of despair settled over her, and she wondered if the rest of those present could feel it also. 

She suspected so, for there came a chorus of hushed, disbelieving whispers from the congregation. 

One man's voice dominated, speaking more clearly than the rest and commanding attention. "It is a gift," Boromir said, lust in his voice. "A gift to the foes of Mordor." He stood, and Marina could see that his face was set, his green eyes sparkled with prospect. "Why not use this ring?" he questioned the council. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of _our_ people are your lands kept safe!" He circled around the dais, making eye contact with each man, each elf, and each dwarf as he went. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy," he implored. "Let us use it against them!" 

"You cannot wield it," came a second voice. Boromir found himself challenged by the same man he'd encountered the previous night in the corridor. The man's eyes had lost none of their intensity, but his voice was low and calm. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone." 

"And what," Boromir asked scathingly, "would a mere Ranger know of this?" 

The man said nothing, but one of the elves jumped to his feet belligerently. "This is no mere Ranger!" the elf declared. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your alliegence!" 

Incredulity filled Boromir's face. "Aragorn? _This_ is Isildur's heir?" 

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," the elf added, warning flashing in his gaze. 

Aragorn murmured something to the elf that Marina could not discern, and he sat down, though his eyes remained trained on Boromir. 

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it," chimed in another man. He was tall and clad in grey, and the lines in his face were deep. 

"You have only one choice, then," Elrond concluded ominously. "The Ring must be destroyed." His words hung in the air like a death sentence. Marina watched as Boromir sunk into his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. 

"What are we waiting for?" The gruff voice of one of the dwarves broke the silence. He stood, brandishing his axe. With a great cry, he struck the ring with the weapon. The stroke was true, and the response instantaneous. The Ring did not budge, but the axe shattered, and the dwarf was flung backwards. More disturbed murmuring followed. 

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." He paused, staring from his ageless eyes at those before him. "One of you must do this." 

Silence followed this statement. 

Boromir closed his eyes, massaging his temples in despair and frustration. "One does not simply walk into Mordor," he said softly, thinking of all Marina had told him of her homeland. "It's black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is an evil there that does not sleep… and the Great Eye… is ever watchful. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." 

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" the blonde elf interjected again, rising to his feet once more. "The Ring must be destroyed!" 

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" the dwarf called Gimli chimed in, malice in his voice. 

"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir went on. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" 

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" Gimli cried. An outbreak of angry voices followed, as the council all stood, beginning an argument that stopped just short of an outright brawl. 

Marina watched the fray, horrified. _Take the ring into Mordor! _She thought. _It's a fool's errand. There can be no victory in this way._

A voice suddenly sounded out among the clamor:

"I will take it!" 

Marina looked to see who it was that had spoken, but could not make him out, for the group continued to fight. 

"I will take it!" The voice cried out again, and this time, the crowd was silenced. Bodies shifted, and Marina could see that it was the hobbit who had spoken. 

"I will take the Ring to Mordor," he continued. "Though- though I do not know the way," he finished, his last words betraying the fear in his voice. 

The wizened, grey-clad man stepped before him. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear."

Aragorn stepped forward next, kneeling before the hobbit. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword." 

The blonde elf stepped forward next, offering his bow and his service to the hobbit. Not to be outdone, Gimli also agreed to lend his axe to the cause. 

Boromir stepped forward then. Marina couldn't contain her gasp, and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. _He can't go!_ She thought desperately. _He will be killed!_

"You carry the fate of us all, little one," Boromir said to the hobbit. "If this is indeed the will of the Council… then Gondor will see it done." 

A sudden rustling from a nearby bush preceded the coming of a second hobbit, who declared that Frodo would go nowhere without him. Two more hobbits followed his suit, entering from where they had also evidently been hiding out of sight behind the wall. 

Elrond looked surprised, but not displeased as he said, "Nine companions… So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." 

With that, the Council appeared to have concluded, and Marina was immediately reminded that she could not be discovered. Heart heavy at the prospect of what was to come, she fled the Council area, returning to her chamber, where locking the door, she collapsed onto the bed and wept. 


End file.
